After the Fall
by SlimReaper
Summary: After Loki falls into the shattered void of the bifrost's destruction, he finds more than he expected. Lemony goodness and non-canon fun. What can I say, I love it when the bad boy gets the girl. Loki/OC, Thor/Jane, prequel to Mirrors and Shadows. Enjoy!
1. Haven

**{Note to those who've got this on update alert–this isn't a new story. I just divided it up into chapters (because it's 28k words, damn) and made some changes (inaccuracies corrected and a couple other things because I CAN and they were bugging me… and I gave Loki a better name, suggested by my son). Sorry if this disappoints anyone! However, I do have some news–there _will_ be a sequel, if I get enough people telling me they want one. A couple of people already did and mwah to them! And now we return you to your irregularly unscheduled Loki!fic}**

**This fic just poured out of me over about 4 days because Loki stole the entire movie for me in Thor and I was just not ready to let him go! And now I challenge you all, read some Norse mythology, people-Loki was off the CHAIN with some of the shit he pulled. And all the attitude he gave Thor, quite often to his face? Loki is now my favorite bad-ass god ever. He truly is.**

**I haven't read the comics (yet) and used the movie as a jumping-off point, no pun intended, so inaccuracies and non-canon stuff should be expected all over the frickin place. All that follows is inspired by the Norse myths as told by Padraic Colum and my own twisted brain. Enjoy it!**

**.**

"I've been banished."

Those were the first words Loki said after Taryn found him half-collapsed on her doorstep and dragged him inside, and they were also the first outright lie he'd ever spoken to her. Odin hadn't banished him… he'd rejected Loki, had spat on his best efforts, but he hadn't technically banished him. Loki himself had chosen to fall into the void between worlds before he'd had the chance. Once he'd finally landed on Midgard, he'd not known what to do. He felt foolish going to her for help–he'd always been the one to help her–but right now, he had to admit that he had nowhere else to go. No one else he dared trust.

And mortal or not, Taryn seemed to be the only one who had never betrayed him.

So after she'd helped him to collapse on her couch, had wrapped his shaking body in blankets and grasped his cold hands and demanded to know what had happened to him, Loki lied.

"What?" Taryn gasped, squeezing his fingers so hard it almost hurt. "How? _Why?_"

Loki shook his head mutely, not wanting to relive the wretched hours that had led up to this even for her. Everything he'd done after Odin had cast Thor out had made sense to Loki as he'd done it, but the other Æsir hadn't even tried to understand his motives. Like any of them, he'd used his most powerful weapons to protect the Realm Eternal from threat, and his plan had been executed to perfection without a single Æsir life being threatened. It had been a thing of beauty, a needless war ended and lasting peace ensured using nothing but Loki's brilliant mind.

And then Thor returned, and everything–_everything!_–had been ruined. Sif and the Warriors Three had branded Loki a traitor, blaming him for Thor's banishment instead of the thunder-god's own hubris, accusing him of plotting to take the throne he'd never even wanted. And Thor had believed the worst of his brother without even hearing Loki's explanations because he didn't understand the plan–none of them understood it. Loki's keenest weapons were magic and subterfuge, not steel and blind violence, and the ignorant meatheads of Asgard had not been able to grasp the subtle beauty of it–just as they never understood the depths in which his thoughts ran. He'd always wondered how he could have come from the Allfather's loins and yet managed to be so very different from the rest of them.

He laughed silently and utterly without humor. Well, at least that question had been well and definitively answered.

But Taryn looked so angry on his behalf, so outraged, that he knew he had to tell her something. So Loki spoke again, this time giving her the truth, harsh as it was. "I am not Æsir," he said, the words still hurting him, oh, biting so deep. Unable to hold her dark eyes any longer, he looked down at her hands grasping his so tightly. "The day of my birth was the day the last Great War ended. The Allfather found me in the Grand Temple of Jötunnheim after he defeated Lauffey. I am not Loki Odinsson, Taryn. I am… Laufeysson."

This time, instead of gasping, Taryn didn't breathe at all. He wanted to look at her, to see how she'd take this, but he couldn't–_couldn't._ This mortal knew the full import of what he'd just said, knew exactly what it meant. She would understand the full horror of his confession. The Jötunn were evil monsters, horrible creatures, full of power and hate.

And now Loki told her that he was one of them. Worse–he was the son of their most vicious king. It was, indeed, an unforgivable thing.

But her grip on his hands didn't lessen. "You are who you are, Loki, no more and no less. The Allfather made that decision and you should not be punished for it," she finally said, and Loki finally was able to look up, to see her brown eyes still warm and outraged for him. She saw his surprise and smiled at him, one hand releasing his to cup his cheek. "Loki, you are my friend. I _know_ you. Did you really think I'd cast you out, too?"

He closed his eyes and covered her hand with his own. "I… wasn't sure," he admitted.

Taryn sighed and shook her head. "And here I thought _you_ knew _me_." He looked at her again, his body weak and shuddering in his blankets from the chaotic journey between worlds without the protection of bifrost, his mind crackling with power and emotion, and she was as serious as he'd ever seen her. "Show me," she demanded.

Immediately, without any thought at all, Loki shook his head. "You know what the monsters look like already. I don't want you to see me like that."

Her gaze sharpened. "You're not a monster, Loki. Show me."

"No."

Taryn sighed and squeezed his hands. "You assume my reaction without allowing me the chance to give it," she said softly. "Let me see you, Loki. Let me accept you."

He stared at her for a long time without replying. She didn't urge him again. Instead, she just sat beside him, holding his hands and now knowing the origin of the chill she'd always teased him about, not shying away, simply waiting for his decision.

And he couldn't deny her anything. _Damn it!_ He closed his eyes with a snap and let the magic flow.

Loki didn't see her initial reaction as his pale skin darkened to the blue of the Jötunn–no accident. He might be the Liesmith, but he couldn't lie to himself worth a damn and if her first reaction was bad, he'd never be able to convince himself afterward that she wasn't disgusted by him. And he wanted, _needed_ the security of her friendship, untarnished and whole, the only steady thing left in his world.

After a moment she did drop his hands with a hiss and he finally opened his eyes to find her shaking her fingers and breathing on them. "Freezer burn," she explained when he looked at her, questioning.

"Sorry," he said, cursing himself for forgetting how the touch of a Frost Giant would affect her.

And then he watched her look at him despite himself, bracing himself to see the disgust or fear he'd purposefully hidden from only moments ago.

It wasn't there. Taryn stared wide-eyed at him, at the ridged lines on his forehead and body that proclaimed him prince and warlord from birth, the blazing red of his eyes, the darker blue of his lips and the crystalline white of his fingernails. "Wow," she finally said, letting her breath out in a rush that fogged the chilled air between them.

And that was all.

Loki let the silence go on until he couldn't stand it anymore. "That's it?" he finally said, so nervous it felt like his skin was trying to crawl off his bones. "Just wow?"

She smiled, but she was shivering and her teeth chattered. "I'm trying to progress beyond wow. Mostly I'm wondering if I'd turn into an icicle if I hugged you." When he just stared at her in shock, she dared to squeeze his shoulder though the layers of blankets. She pulled back quickly, her fingers white with cold, but it was enough. "It's okay, Loki," she said quietly. "I'm not frightened."

It was almost unbelievable, but she actually seemed to be telling the truth. "My reaction wasn't nearly as calm as yours," Loki said dryly as he released the spell and felt the shimmer of warmth as his flesh returned to the Æsir pallor he'd always known. The temperature of the room noticeably rose and true to her words, Taryn immediately hugged him.

She pulled away when he remained stiff in her embrace and instead took his hands again. "I can understand that. How did you find out?"

This time, his answers came more slowly. He told her of the Frost Giants breaking into the weapons vault on the day of Thor's aborted coronation (but not how they'd gotten there), of Thor's outrage and the Allfather's decree that there was to be no retaliation on the Jötunn for the invasion. He spoke of Thor's insistence on going to Jötunnheim and the battle that had followed, of the Frost Giant who'd grabbed Loki's arm and frozen his vambrace to shattering ruin but whose touch had only exposed the hidden blue of his true skin without harming him at all. Through it all, Taryn listened, not speaking, not pulling away.

She gasped when he recounted Odin's curse and Thor's banishment. Then he began to speak more cautiously as he told her something of what had happened in Asgard while the favored son had been away. Loki told her how he'd taken the throne when Odin had fallen into the Odinsleep and been branded usurper for doing so–and damn, but that name still angered him. After all, he was the only remaining son and who else _should_ have taken it? How was legitimate succession something evil? Pride still stinging at the plan no one had understood, he told her everything except for tricking Lauffey into coming to Asgard to die at the hands of his own stolen son. That, Loki didn't want her to know.

When he finally fell silent, Taryn hugged him again, harder this time. "My poor Loki," she whispered, and he squeezed his eyes shut and shuddered again, her empathy almost painful. "Odin's on a son-banishing roll, isn't he? Of course you can stay here as long as you like."

His tension finally melted away, leaving him almost boneless with exhaustion and relief. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have burdened you," he said, and then admitted, "but I didn't know where else to go. I'm not exactly popular here on Midgard."

Taryn mock-glared at him and got to her feet. "You're never a burden to me, Loki. And besides, it's your own fault that I'm your only friend here, God of Mischief. People tend to object to having their cars turned into ice cream," she teased gently, and he managed a weak smile for her. That _had_ been a fun bit of mischief. Then she tugged on his hands until he, too, rose from the couch, the blankets falling away from his shoulders. "Come on, I'm putting you to bed. You've been through hell and while sleep won't cure all of it, it'll help."

He followed her, let her push him down onto her own bed after she'd declared the guest room unfit for habitation. He sat numbly as she pulled off his boots and helped him out of his armored overtunic–how long would it be before he dared to dress as an Æsir again, much less as the son of Odin?–and finally tugged the blankets up over him. "Sleep, Loki," Taryn said, stroking the hair off his forehead with such gentleness, his eyes welled with quickly-hidden tears. "We'll get through this. I'll help you any way I can. Just rest now."

And as she turned out the light, Loki buried his head under her pillow, smelled the warm, sweet scent of her, and loved her so much his heart ached with it.

But then, he always had.

...

_Loki strolled into the bookstore, bored, looking for diversion while his brother and the Warriors Three amused themselves training with the mortal Special Forces units out on the San Diego beach. He'd been there, done that, scoffed at the tee-shirt, and had no desire to waste more of his day in the grunting, sweating testosterone-frenzy the others so relished. Sif might mock him as Loki Cowardson for his preference of using magic from a distance during battle, but he merely used the weapons that came most easily to him. What courage was there in crippling himself by ignoring his spells and fighting only with steel? That was stupidity, not bravery._

_He wandered invisible through shadows, tracing the odd spine of a book, picking up thoughts from the college students selecting textbooks. Bored, bored, bored. For something to do, he pinched a severe-looking woman's bottom just as a pimpled, skinny young man barely out of his teens walked past. She spun around, eyes blazing, ready to kill._

"_That wasn't very nice."_

_It took a moment for Loki to realize the murmured words, barely audible over the angry woman's tirade, were actually directed at him. He turned around to see a red-haired young woman staring at him with mild brown eyes. He raised an eyebrow. "You see me?"_

_She nodded, a little smile on her own lips. "I'm looking at you, aren't I?"_

_Loki's other brow rose to join the first. Well well well, this was more interesting than petty pranks. He crossed to the table where she sat beside a stack of books and pulled out the chair opposite her. "How?" he asked simply._

_She shrugged. "Never figured it out. I just see you, and others like you. I'm Taryn."_

"_Loki Odinsson," he replied, inclining his head to her._

_She laughed, drawing the stares of several people who were watching the escalating argument he'd instigated. Loki waved a negligent hand and redirected their attention, not wanting her to stop talking to him because of their scrutiny. "Who are the others like me that you see?" he asked. Æsir rarely visited Midgard any longer, now that they had no believers who prayed for their intervention. She shouldn't have had the opportunity to see enough Æsir to be so calm about it now._

_Taryn nodded toward the large picture window behind him. He glanced around and saw the Navy SEALS training on the beach, and his brother, Lady Sif, and the Warriors Three alongside them. "I like the one with the beard. I can't believe he doesn't step on it."_

"_Ahh, yes, Volstagg," Loki said, watching the warrior run through the obstacles, beard and hair flying wildly. "A very enthusiastic warrior indeed."_

_Taryn closed her book with a little snap. "Well, you look bored, and I don't think the city needs any chaos right now, so how about coming with me for a coffee? I've always been interested in Asgard. You can tell me your side of all the stories about you."_

_He sat back in the chair, intrigued and a little taken aback by her boldness. "Why would I do that?"_

_She reached for one of the books on the table and passed it to him. _A History of Asgard, _by Taryn Roswell. "Because I'll publish it, embarrassing all of them, and you will have done a little mischief," she said. "How about it?"_

_Loki smiled–one of his truly wicked grins. She returned it. _

_And after that day, whenever Thor dragged them all to Earth, Loki made time to see the red-haired mortal woman. Soon Loki was making visits for that purpose alone. Taryn teased him, laughed with him, suggested pranks and helped wholeheartedly to pull them off. He gave her information for her books and if he had to create a few new artifacts for her to reference, what of it? At times he even attended her classes, for Taryn was a professor of Norse Mythology, and asked her awkward questions–usually about himself–just to see how she'd respond. She fascinated him, a bright mortal flame lighting up his immortal existence, bold and fearless for one with so much to lose._

_And over the past five years, any mischief he'd created in Midgard had been only for her amusement._

...


	2. By Any Other Name

Loki awakened before dawn. There was no gentle moment of disorientation to ease him into consciousness, just the sudden return of all of yesterday's misery and wretchedness.

Still, Taryn had been partially right–he _did_ feel better for a night's sleep, at least physically. He sighed and rolled out of bed before finding his box in the guest room's closet–true to her word, the bed was covered in books and clutter, testament to her disorganized form of research. Taryn always kept some clothes for him stored here, normal mortal gear he'd wear during his frequent visits. Now he dressed in black jeans and a green silk shirt before carefully folding and putting away his Æsir clothing and armor with a pang he refused to identify.

_They_ had rejected _him._ And if Heimdall could somehow see him through all the layers of magic he had in place, Loki wouldn't give the bastard the satisfaction of seeing how much that hurt him.

Barefoot, he made his way toward Taryn's kitchen but paused instead in the living room. She slept curled up like a cat on the couch beneath the blanket he'd worn last night. He paused for a long moment, just watching her sleep–she'd given up her bed to him with such unthinking generosity, but it was something he would treasure. Was it a dream that he'd shown her his Jötunn form last night and she'd actually _hugged_ him afterward? It had to be. But his shoulders still tingled as though again feeling the pressure of her embrace. Mimicking her actions from last night, Loki gently stroked the hair from her forehead and tucked it gently behind her ear. "Thank you," he whispered softly.

Before he could do something to awaken her, for she looked just as tired as he still felt, Loki left her and went to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee. He knew how she liked it–cream and sugar, nice and strong. He also knew that the aroma would awaken her by the time the pot finished brewing.

He had a mug ready for her when her almost-silent footsteps padded into the kitchen behind him. "Morning," he said, turning to see her yawning and stretching languidly in the doorway. He held out the mug like an offering. "For you."

She took the mug from his hand, sipped, and sighed with pleasure. "Mmm, perfect." He took the opportunity to let his gaze wander the length of her legs exposed by the very short shorts she wore with a tank top. "Thanks," she said after another savored sip. "And I notice you didn't say _good_ morning."

"That's because I'm not sure it will be."

"Cheerful." She smiled at him and despite all the worry and anger filling him, Loki found himself returning it. "That's what I like about you most–your unbridled optimism." He snorted and she laughed at him before turning serious. "What do you want to do?" she asked softly.

He sighed and shook his head. "I was thinking of taking over Midgard," he mused, pulling down a pan and putting it on the stove. "Perhaps setting myself up as supreme lord and tyrant, destroying all who dare challenge me, that sort of thing. You know, have a little fun with the whole exile thing."

Taryn fell into the familiar routine they'd established during the many times he'd stayed with her and went to the refrigerator to pull out bacon and eggs. "Sounds good to me," she said, going along with him. "Can I be someone powerful too?"

"Of course. I will make of the Earth a gift to you, and the Sun and Moon as well. They will shine only at your command. The world will be yours to control."

She grinned as she opened the bacon. "Very poetic. I like it."

As though sensing he wasn't ready to talk about his real future plans, Taryn left it there. Loki was glad. Actually, he wasn't sure if he was kidding about taking over Earth or not. After all, he certainly had the power to do so now. The trip between worlds, screaming through the dimensions without the aid or constraint of bifrost, had scorched and battered him but left him almost literally sizzling with new, stronger magic. Midgard had no defenses worthy of his notice, not now. He'd been rejected as unworthy to rule Asgard… he could show them otherwise here. He could take SHIELD, Thor's new ally, and play with it like a cat with a mouse, mocking the so-called heros with their own helplessness before squashing them beneath his paw. It would be… satisfying… to best Thor.

It would be beyond satisfying to make all of Asgard acknowledge his power.

The bacon sizzled as Taryn arranged the slices in the pan and Loki dragged his thoughts back from the darkness. Right now, he needed to get his head together and formulate a plan before he did anything rash.

"If you're planning to stay here for a while, you could come help me out at the university," she suggested a few minutes later, flipping the bacon with a fork. "I've been advertising for a teaching assistant. I'd say you probably know the material well enough." He snorted and she nudged him with her elbow. "Come on, it might be fun. It's not like you haven't attended enough of my classes."

He thought about it for a moment as he cracked eggs into a bowl and began to beat them. "I will need the appropriate documents to prove I can work here," he hedged, unwilling to commit.

"Can't you just magic all that stuff into being? I mean, it seems you still have your power. They didn't take that from you like they did from Thor, right?"

No, no one had taken anything from him except his pride and dreams and future and everything he'd ever believed in. He shook that thought away. "Yes, I still have my power. What will you name me?"

She laughed. "I get to name you?"

"Why not?"

Taryn laughed again, then leaned a hip against the counter and studied him with narrowed eyes. Loki plucked the crisp bacon from the pan and put it on a paper towel to drain, letting her examine him at will. "Hmm," she murmured, tapping her lips with a fingertip. "Hubert Wilfred Mumpley-Zitt."

He shot her a mock-glare from beneath lowered eyebrows. "Would you like to be cursed?"

She stuck her tongue out at him. He snapped at it, and she laughed. "Okay, seriously this time, why not Luke? It's close enough that you shouldn't have much trouble getting used to answering to it. Luke…" Suddenly, she laughed. "Luke Eli Smith. Think about it."

_Luke Eli Smith…_ he rolled the names around in his mind and then got it. _ Loki Lie-smith. _Loki rolled his eyes and laughed, but he nodded. "Very cute," he agreed. "If you can show me examples of the documents I'll need, I can produce them after breakfast."

She clutched her chest dramatically and pretended to swoon. "Ahh, Loki, the excitement you bring to my life! Highly illegal activities casually discussed over morning coffee. Why do none of my other friends do that?" Taryn asked as he dished up their breakfast and carried the plates to her little table.

He gave her a grin, a wicked one over his shoulder, full of all his old mischief. "Clearly you need more interesting friends."

They ate in silence for a few minutes, a silence that was companionable and soothing. Neither of them felt the need to use words simply to fill the spaces. Wordsmith that he was, he treasured moments like this. Loki wasn't able to simply be quiet like this with just anyone–the only other with whom he'd been able to share silences like this was Thor.

That thought stung so much he actually winced. His brother… he'd thought, not long ago, that the one constant in his life would be his elder brother, proud and overbearing and no matter the odds, always, _always_ on Loki's side. How many times had they argued for each other before Odin? Too many to count. It had been a favorite game–Loki suggesting pranks and Thor pulling them back from the brink of too far, or Thor getting them in over their heads in adventure or battle and Loki always finding some hidden way to victory, both of them dragged before the Allfather to explain themselves upon their return to Asgard. And next time, they would push farther, dare more. They were a perfect team, two sides of the same coin–sunlight and shadow, brawn and brain, muscle and magic.

Now that man was no longer his brother, and if they met again, they would battle face to face rather than back to back.

Then again, they might not. The uncertainty of it was difficult for Loki to handle, unusual and highly disconcerting. Cleverest of the gods, he had always thought ten steps ahead of everyone else. He'd always known what Thor would do, usually well before Thor himself managed to figure it out. Loki had been utterly confident that the brother he'd fought beside for centuries would understand his plan when he returned to Asgard.

But he'd been wrong. The Thor who'd returned from Midgard wasn't the same man Odin had banished. He'd been fundamentally changed by his exile on Earth and the love of the mortal woman, Jane Foster. For the first time in over a thousand years, his muscle-bound warrior of a brother had decided with his heart and mind instead of his muscles and hammer, and he'd ruined what Loki had so carefully created. He'd stolen Loki's moment of glory.

Loki could hate Thor for that. He _did_ hate him for that, a vicious hatred that burned his veins like acid.

Now Thor was again the golden child, Odin's favorite son, perfect once more in his father's eyes, and Loki was the enemy. Worse than an enemy, he was heir to the throne of Jötunnheim, wretched as that world was, the true king of Asgard's worst enemies. Loki the Betrayer, they'd call him, traitor to Asgard. And Loki had come out of his battering journey through the void on Midgard, the place where Thor would move sun and moon to return so he could be reunited with Jane. Eventually he _would_ find a way. And when he did, Thor would find Loki. About that, at least, there was no doubt. Would Thor plan an attack upon him as an enemy, or would he seek him out as the brother he'd once treasured? Loki didn't know. He didn't _know,_ and it was making him crazy trying to figure it out.

A touch on his hand shook Loki from the darkness of his thoughts. Taryn looked at him with such gentle understanding, he quickly looked away and cleared his throat. He couldn't handle looks like that–not from her. "Sorry," he said, not really knowing what he was apologizing for.

"No apologies," she replied, squeezing his hand once more before letting her fingers slide away. "You've got plenty of justification for it. But if you want to talk, I'm here."

He got up abruptly, ostensibly to refill his coffee. She didn't push. After a moment, he asked, "What day is it here? Am I keeping you from work?"

Taryn shook her head. "It's Sunday, and Monday's a holiday. I was planning on grading some papers, but it's nothing I can't push off on my grad students. I'm at your disposal for another forty-eight hours."

He nodded and leaned a hip against the counter, unsure if that was good news or bad. Much as he treasured her company, he also wanted to curl up in a corner and lick his wounds for a while.

She didn't give him time to start brooding again. She gathered their plates and dumped them in the sink, then leaned against the counter facing him, mimicking his pose. "You're going to go crazy stuck in the house," she finally declared, crossing her arms over her chest–it pulled the already-low neckline of her tank a bit lower and he had to stop himself from staring. "So you're coming with me and we're going to have some fun today. Don't bother saying no."

He never said no to her–hadn't she noticed that over the years? "Hmm, fun," he mused, tapping his chin. "Yes, I think I remember that concept. What did you have in mind?"

She smiled and her brown eyes sparkled. "Have you ever been on a rollercoaster?"

...

It was dark by the time Taryn parked her little car back in the garage. Loki got out and stretched. "I'm going to turn this into something bigger," he groaned, twisting to get the kinks out of his spine. He was far too tall to ride comfortably in her tiny vehicle, but she'd complained that it made it too hard to drive when he adjusted the interior to his comfort, so he'd crunched in and suffered for it. "Why did you get a SmartCar anyway? It's not like you need to worry about gas mileage." That was a gift he'd given her years ago when she'd run out of gas during one of his visits–any car she drove would never need gas.

She laughed as she opened the microscopic-sized hatchback and reached inside. "Actually, I won this car," she said, tugging on a team-logo'd blanket and dislodging two basketballs. These were also gifts–after proclaiming the rollercoasters a pale comparison to traveling via bifrost, he'd won boardwalk games for her all day to make her laugh. Even the smallest of the ridiculous stuffed things he'd won for her shouldn't have fit in her tiny car. Still, in defiance of the suggestions of physics (why call them laws when he could break them at will?), Taryn pulled out an eight-foot-long green snake, a teddy bear almost as big as she was, two cartoon dogs, and a giant yellow parrot. She glanced over her shoulder at him, eyes twinkling. "Somehow, I'm very lucky in contests. Wonder why?"

"Can't imagine," he replied straight-faced.

She snorted and tossed the snake at him. He caught it easily and placed it on top of a stack of boxed books. "I have no idea what I'm going to do with all this," she said as they stacked her prizes in the corner of her already-crowded garage. "You went a little overboard, Mister I-Must-Win-Every-Prize. I thought they only allowed one win per day."

"Hmm, I must have missed the bit where rules started applying to me."

She laughed and unlocked the door into her kitchen. "Come on, I'll start dinner." Then she looked back and added, "Bring the snake. It reminds me of you."

He declined to comment on that as he pulled it back down. Of course she'd know he'd been called Loki Serpent-tongue, and it did even have green eyes. Loki smiled at the ridiculous thing as he followed her into the kitchen, where she'd turned on the radio and was lighting several of the scented candles she so loved.

Suddenly he flicked his fingers and sent the plush snake leaping across the kitchen to twist across her shoulders and down her arms like a very friendly python. "I can't say I see the resemblance," he mused, grinning at her yelp of surprise. "Although it does look at home wrapped around you." Almost as soon as the words left his lips, Loki wished he could call them back–sometimes his mouth got away from him around her, but she didn't seem to notice.

She laughed and tried to pull it off. It raised its head and hissed at her, waggling its red felt tongue. She caught the bit of felt between her fingers and tugged. "Very cute, but this isn't getting dinner cooked," she pointed out when the snake snapped at her fingers.

He waved a hand and the snake slithered off her arms and out of the kitchen. Taryn shook her head at him as it disappeared around the corner. "Um, how long is that going to stay like that?"

He shrugged. "Just until it finds a shadowy place to lie in wait for prey, I imagine. They're ambush predators."

"Oh, lovely image. I'm sure I'll sleep so much better now. Thanks for that." He laughed and she rolled her eyes at him. "Make yourself useful and open a bottle of wine, will you?"

"I believe I also missed the bit where I'm useful," he said dryly, but he turned to do her bidding.

"Oh, don't you dare give me that! Half the gods in Asgard owe you for something or another–what would Thor be without his hammer, or Odin his staff?"

Those names stabbed through Loki's playful mood–not to mention that this was one of the tales he'd never discussed with her–and Taryn seemed to feel his withdrawal at once. She turned, biting her lip, and saw him frozen with his hand halfway to her wine rack. "I'm sorry," she said quickly, taking a step toward him but stopping short. "I shouldn't have said that."

He forced himself to move again, to pluck a bottle at random and pop the cork with a snap of his fingers. Red, white, he had no clue and didn't care. If it wasn't what she wanted, he'd just change it into something else. "No apologies," he said, echoing her words from breakfast. "We've never hesitated to speak of Asgard before. No reason to start now."

There was a long, tense silence before Taryn put down two wineglasses with a little more force than was necessary. "I can think of several, but I'll say once this and be done with it," she said, and when he turned, she was staring hard into his eyes. The anger he'd glimpsed last night was back and burned hotter now. "Asgard _never_ deserved you. They never appreciated you. You did things they couldn't, you got your hands dirty when they refused to, and you saved their asses time and again. And what did you get for it? Nothing! They're going to regret sending you away soon enough when they realize there's no one to save them from their own stupidity, and I for one hope you make them all grovel before you go back."

She took a deep, shuddering breath, and let it out in a rush. "Okay, that's it. I've said my piece. Now pour that wine because I need a drink."

But Loki was frozen, just staring at her. He'd often heard Sif's hot-blooded speeches in defense of the Warriors Three, and had overheard Odin defend Thor's idiocy to the other Æsir many times, but even Thor had never spoken so passionately, so fiercely on Loki's behalf before. Soon Taryn blushed at the intensity of his gaze, but she didn't take the words back. "I believe," he said slowly, his voice almost a full octave lower than usual, "that was the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me."

Her cheeks flushed darker. She finally broke their gaze and pulled the wine bottle out of his unresisting hands. "I've thought that for quite a while," she admitted as she filled both glasses–not a reasonable measure, but all the way to the brim. "Since before I even met you." And she raised her glass and took down half of it in one go. When she met his eyes again, hers were very bright. "And now that I do know you, I think it's even more true. You're a good man, Loki. Promise me you won't believe anyone who says otherwise."

Silently, solemnly, Loki crossed his heart and held up his hand. She took another too-large gulp of wine and he sipped his too, hardly tasting it. But when he saw she was about to speak again, to try and break the tension, he beat her to it. For some reason, he didn't _want_ to break this tension. "You could ask me for anything right now and I would give it," he told her softly.

She didn't even hesitate to think about it. "Then be happy, Loki," she said earnestly, reaching out and grasping his free hand. "That's all I want."

Loki turned his hand in hers, entwined their fingers, and drew in a breath to speak. But what he would've said to her he never knew, because at that instant, a loud crack of thunder shook the floors and rattled every window in Taryn's home.

"That's Thor!" she gasped, dropping his hand and her glass and running to the window to look outside. Loki caught the glass before it could spill so much as a drop, cursing his brother all the more for his abysmal timing.

"How the hell did he get here? The bifrost is shattered!" Loki growled, joining Taryn at the window. But then he realized that the _how _didn't matter–there was only one reason Thor would arrive in San Diego. "He's looking for me," he said, all but groaning the words. He ached, _burned_ to fight Thor, but when he looked at Taryn, his battle lust died in a wave of fear at the thought of her caught in the middle of it. "He's going to search for me here. Taryn, go now, get out of here!"

She stared up at Loki as a second lightning strike, so close that the thunder seemed to arrive at the same instant, shook the walls. "I'm not leaving you!" she said, everything from her tone to her eyes to her body language outraged at the suggestion.

"I don't want to fight him in your home, Taryn!" Loki snarled, knowing they didn't have time for this argument.

"Then don't!" She spun around, looking all around the kitchen, at their wineglasses on the counter and the candles she'd lit on the island. Then she nodded decisively and turned back to him. "Change your looks. Do it now!" she snapped when he hesitated.

Loki did so, shortening his hair and making it curl, shaving an inch off his height, narrowing his shoulders, changing his face. Taryn didn't watch his transformation. Instead, she ran to the light switch and turned off the overhead lights, leaving the kitchen illuminated only by her candles. Then she reached up and tore the rubber band from her ponytail, spilling her red hair around her shoulders. She ran her hands through it and tousled it as she hurried back to him.

"What are you doing?" Loki asked when she unbuttoned the top two buttons of her blouse.

Taryn grabbed his arm and pulled him close to her. "Thor knows we've never been romantic," she said, wrapping her arms around his neck. "He clearly figured out you'd think of coming here, but I doubt he'd believe I'd shelter one man while involved with another, don't you?"

Her plan hit him like a punch to the gut. He glanced around her kitchen–the candlelight, the music, the wine–it definitely looked like a romantic scene. Had Thor known that Loki loved her? Loki was very much afraid he hadn't fooled his brother at all with the reasons he'd given for his frequent trips to Earth over the years, but that would only lend more credence to what Taryn was planning. If Loki had come here for shelter and had indeed found Taryn living with another man, no force on Earth could have convinced him to stay.

But that meant they'd have to convince Thor that they were indeed together. And in a romantic setting like this, it would be only natural for a couple to do more than just sip wine…

Loki's throat tightened as Taryn ran her fingers through his hair, mussing it. It was admirable, the way she'd thought so quickly of a plan while he'd been too worried about her to do so himself. She hadn't thought of her own safety–she'd thought immediately of protecting _him._ If he wasn't so afraid of what Thor would do to her if their ruse failed, he'd be very touched by that. But for now, everything would depend on the believability of their performance. "Don't look so terrified," she whispered, smiling up at him and winking. "I'll only bite if it's really necessary."

The thought of her biting him sent waves of heat through his body. Loki realized he hadn't put his arms around her and did so now. The feel of her, warm and trusting in his embrace, made him want to throttle Thor even more than ever. Bitter, he held her and cursed that a dream had to come true in this way, when it had to be a ruse. "You're sure you want to do this?" he asked, giving her one last chance to change her mind.

Taryn nodded immediately. "Leave Thor to me," she said, and tugged his head down. "You're an actor," she murmured, a breath away from his mouth. "The best there's ever been. Just think of it as another role."

He scowled that she thought he needed to be convinced to kiss her. His hands tightened on her waist, bringing her body fully against his. "Not everything has to be a lie, Taryn," he growled, and he kissed her as rain and hail began to lash the house.

And when her lips parted for him, the storm, Thor's arrival, all the truths Loki wasn't telling her–everything else in the universe ceased to matter.

All that mattered was _this._


	3. Make It Real

Loki shuddered when her tongue met his, teasing him with softness and the taste of wine. His anger was no match for the resulting explosion of heat, tight and fierce, deep in his stomach. His breath caught; her lips curved in a smile felt rather than seen. Satisfied, triumphant, _sexy_ as anything he'd ever experienced. Taryn threaded her fingers in his hair as he kissed her softly. She captured him so easily merely by yielding to him. And it was torture to know it was all only to hide him from Thor.

Everything he wanted, and nothing that was real.

The thought stabbed him and Loki wished it were something he could crush and make bleed as it was making him bleed. The only way to deal with it was to drown it out. His arm tightened around her waist as his other hand slid up her spine, making her arch against him, pressing her breasts against his chest. His heart kicked painfully at the sensation. She gasped in turn when his tongue suddenly stopped teasing and swept inside, conquering, demanding instead of asking, hot and lusty now and not sweet at all, and he swallowed the sound and pressed for more. Five years of aching to taste her, five damned _years_ of hungering for every casual touch, and finally Loki had the chance to hold her, kiss her, touch her, _seduce_ her…

And now he didn't give a damn about hiding from Thor. He wasn't thinking or planning or scheming or working the odds to turn them to his favor. He was only drowning, riding a current deeper and more dangerous than any sea of magic, willingly losing himself in the depths. He wrapped her soft hair around his long fingers, keeping her captive to his hungry mouth. _More._ He wanted more.

Prince and god was Loki, and he would not be denied. Never once breaking the kiss, Loki took a step forward, then another and another, until she was trapped between him and the center island. His knee pressed between hers–she parted for him and he pushed as close as he could get. Full lips melded to his, tongues dancing, her body locked against his from shoulder to hip to knee and not a single trace of resistance in her, this intoxicated Loki more than any wine ever could.

… _everything he wanted… _

Gods, her tongue was just as quick and clever as his, and Loki tore his mouth away before he spontaneously combusted. The skin of her throat called him and he licked a path down to bite the juncture of her neck and shoulder. She'd put that thought in his mind and he wasn't even going to try to resist temptation–why start now? And by the Norns, she tasted _delicious._ She cried out with a sound that was half surprise and half moan at the sharp nip, provoking him to repeat the bite a little harder this time. This time it was all moan, gorgeous, throaty, wanton. Utterly thrilling_–_he'd made her moan like that, and he could do it again. He _would_ do it again. Loki suckled the skin, swirling his tongue over the area, wanting to mark her as deeply as she'd marked him. Even if he couldn't truly claim her, she would still wear his brand on her skin for days.

Taryn moaned again as his mouth worked on her, breathless sounds of pleasure that hit him hard. Oh, those noises she made–could she be faking them, another layer to a masterly performance for Thor's benefit? Immediately he shoved the thought away. No, these weren't, couldn't have been faked… Loki wouldn't let himself believe it. Her hands in his hair tightened for an instant before she reached down and impatiently tugged his shirt out of his jeans. The feel of her hands sliding beneath it, warm palms exploring his bare skin, was a thrill he could hardly stand. It tore a shuddering moan from him. How many times, how many nights had he imagined her hands clutching his back like this? "Oh _yes_, touch me," he groaned against her throat, for once hardly aware of what words fell from his lips, and kissed her again before she could reply.

This time the kiss spun on and on, deep and hot and hungry, reality so much better than anything he had ever imagined that it seared him. Her tongue warred with his, surrendering now, then attacking, plunging into his mouth and making demands of her own. Her fingers traced his spine, making his muscles clench and tremble beneath her touch as she urged him on. Not that Loki needed any urging–he had no intention of holding back, wasn't sure he could've even had his life depended on it.

… _nothing that was real…_

Loki growled at the persistent thought that wouldn't leave him be, even now while he was going up in flames. Damn it, he might never get another chance like this, and he mentally snarled defiance. He was Loki Silvertongue, the Seducer of Asgard. He would damn well _make_ her understand that this was real.

Needing more, suddenly he lifted her against him, cupping her bottom and setting her onto the counter. His hands slipped down her thighs and parted her knees, then he slid between her thighs and pulled her hips hard against his so she could have no doubt that he wasn't acting a damn thing. _This is real, feel this, feel _me_, know it's real,_ he thought almost viciously. She moaned again as he rocked against her and he growled back in triumph. Every time she gasped, or moaned, or whimpered into his mouth, his heartbeat kicked higher and he craved more. He couldn't get close enough, couldn't touch enough, couldn't taste enough, couldn't hear enough of those sweet sounds of pleasure.

It wasn't the first or even the second knock at the front door that finally broke Taryn from the spell, but Loki pulled her back when she would've moved away. "Not yet," he whispered, his breath ragged in his throat, and then his mouth was on hers again. Curse Thor, he hadn't had enough yet, never mind that he never could–Loki wasn't ready for this to end!

Taryn didn't protest, either. Impossibly, the kisses just kept getting hotter as they learned each other. She nipped his lower lip and he groaned at the sting of her sharp little teeth on his flesh. The triumphant curve of her lips against his just before she bit him again only made him crazier. He cradled her head in his palm, ghosted a caress over her pulse, felt it pounding to match his own. And her taste! Like nothing he'd ever experienced, like desire and need and desperation all hidden in the flavor of wine and woman. She wrapped her legs tight around his hips and Loki had to break away, had to drag in a great breath of air before he completely lost control and began tearing her clothes off, and this time _she_ pulled _him_ back. Now his hand found its way beneath her blouse, and the shivering of her abdomen as his fingers coasted over her skin finally stilled that damned voice in his head.

_This_… the strength of her thighs against his hips, the quickness of her breath, the sting of her nails against the skin of his back, the demands of her mouth that Loki was only too happy to give to her, her soft, trembling skin… all of this… no lie could ever feel like this.

But then a loud knocking shook the kitchen door only a few paces from them and there was no more denying that the time had come to deal with Thor. Their mouths parted but for one instant more they just stared at each other, and Loki wondered if his eyes were as dilated and full of wonder as hers–never had there been a sight in the universe more beautiful than Taryn in his arms, lips red and puffy from his kisses, color high, breathing fast, gazing up at him with surprise and desire written in her eyes. He could've gotten drunk on what he saw in those chocolate depths.

… _everything he wanted…_

But he wasn't given the time. Thor pounded on the door again, and this time he shouted, "Taryn, I see you're in there. I must speak to you!"

Hearing Thor's voice broke the spell. Loki remembered what they were _supposed_ to be doing and he spun around to see Thor, separated from them by only a few inches of wood and glass. Gods, it was hard to act right now, hard to focus his mind, hard to do anything but _want._ He forced what had always come so easily and lied. "Who the hell is that?" he swore–Thor's hearing was acute enough to pick up anything they said even through the hail–as Loki released Taryn and moved to block his brother's view of her.

Taryn had also recovered enough to jump down from the counter and hurriedly straighten her blouse. Loki couldn't help but notice that her knees were trembling when she rushed to the door and a surge of satisfaction rocked him–no, he hadn't been the only one going up in flames. "Don't worry, he's a friend of mine," she said in a voice that was less than steady as she unlocked the kitchen door and let the blond god in. "Come in, Thor, it's pouring! I'm sorry I kept you waiting–I wasn't expecting you," she added, glancing back at Loki and blushing. "I must not have heard you knock–we were… um…"

Thunder rolled outside again, the low rumbling crack an indication of Thor's anger. "Yes, I see what you were doing," Thor said, knuckles tight on Mjolnir's grip, and Taryn's blush deepened as she hurriedly glanced out into the yard behind him as though searching for Sif, Loki, and the Warriors Three–the companions he rarely left Asgard without.

Seeing no one, she turned back to Thor with a frown. "Where is everyone? Isn't your brother with you?"

Loki scowled at Thor, who returned the glare with interest. Loki didn't look away but had enough sense to quail a bit in the face of the Thunder God's ferocity. "No, I came alone. I had actually hoped to find him here with you," Thor said, still holding Loki's gaze, not looking at Taryn as she shut out the storm. Loki noted with satisfaction that he didn't seem to suspect this _boyfriend_ was actually the brother he sought–Taryn's idea had worked beautifully–but he was intrigued by the puzzlement and the very clear anger in that glare. What cause had Thor to be angry at catching Taryn with a man?

Unless… if Thor had indeed figured out how deep Loki's feelings for her ran, could he possibly be enraged that she had so clearly chosen another man over him? It was an intriguing thought but one Loki had no time for, because Thor was still glaring at him as though he wished to strip the skin from his very bones.

Taryn didn't seem to notice as she crossed to Loki and put an arm around him. The wind gusted, blowing a loud spate of hail against the windows as thunder boomed right outside, but neither were as alarming as the increased anger in Thor's impossibly blue eyes. Loki didn't want to think his feelings had been so plain that his usually-clueless brother could have picked up on them, but he couldn't imagine any other reason Thor would really be this concerned about who Taryn chose to kiss.

Thankfully he wasn't given much time to puzzle over it because Thor finally tamped down his emotions. The storm eased noticeably as Thor met her gaze directly for the first time. "Has Loki come to see you, Taryn?" he asked. "I must find him."

"No, I haven't seen him in months," Taryn said, lying as smoothly as Loki ever had, for he'd visited her only a week before Thor's aborted coronation. Would Heimdall have told Thor that? "Why?"

After all the glaring, it was clearly time for the _boyfriend _to speak up. "Taryn, who is this guy?" Loki demanded, giving himself a slight Californian accent. "And why would he think his brother would be here of all places?"

She looked up at him, worried. "It's not like that, Luke–he's my friend. My best friend," she said, and oh, but that sent Loki's heart spinning because he could tell it wasn't a lie. Much as he prized her friendship, he wanted so much more from her than that. But she had already turned her attention back to Thor. "Sorry I forgot the introductions–you caught us a bit scrambled, I'm afraid," she told him, smiling in an embarrassed way that further raised Loki's already high opinion of her acting ability. "Thor, meet my boyfriend, Luke. Luke, this is my very good friend, Thor."

The assumed name slipped easily off her tongue–Loki was glad they'd chosen it earlier. He didn't extend his hand to shake, instead giving Thor a doubtful once-over that took in his Æsir armor, drenched cape, and the oversized hammer dangling at his side. If Thor was going to act like a jealous rival, whatever the reason, it only stood to reason that "Luke" wouldn't be warm and welcoming in return. "Is this missing brother of his also into playing dress-up?" he asked, throwing a little bravado into his voice but letting it crack on the last word when Thor's glare resurged. Playing the part of mortal boyfriend who wanted to be tough in front of Taryn but wasn't quite stupid enough to take on Thor was a piece of cake.

"I warn you once only, do not speak ill of my brother," Thor growled, again surprising Loki. Perhaps that particular pleasure was reserved for Thor alone, he mused.

Taryn squeezed Loki's arm in a warning Thor might or might not be observant enough to pick up on. "They're really into history," she told him quickly. "Especially the old Norse myths–that's how I met them. He's probably just come from a re-enactment or a rehearsal. Will you get him a towel, please, Luke?" she added, clearly wanting him out of the room so she could find out what Thor wanted.

Loki hesitated long enough to indicate he wasn't thrilled about leaving his woman alone with this weird guy but finally nodded. "Fine," he said, clearly not liking it but giving in. "I'll be right back," he added, a warning in his tone.

"I will not harm Taryn," Thor said, definitely offended that this mortal would think otherwise.

"Truly, it's okay," Taryn said, smiling up at him, and Loki finally nodded again and left.

He heard them begin speaking as soon as he left the kitchen. He stayed beside the doorway and magically summoned a towel rather than going to her linen closet, not wanting to get out of earshot in case Taryn needed a quick rescue. "Why don't you know where Loki is, Thor?" Taryn asked without preamble, worry in her voice. "Is he all right?"

"I… I do not know." Loki closed his eyes at the sudden weariness and pain he heard in his brother's–no, not his brother, never his brother–in _Thor's_ voice. The emotion was so genuine that it momentarily choked Loki to hear it, and he frowned. Again Thor was doing things Loki hadn't expected and he despised the unfamiliarity of wondering what he'd do next. Damn it, he'd always _known!_ "But I fear he is not. Taryn, Loki has… he has done terrible things. He has turned on his family and forsaken Asgard. I came to find him before he causes yet more damage and chaos, and to warn you."

She didn't gasp at that revelation–she remained silent, as thought this was a shock too deep to be believed. "I don't understand. Warn me about what?" she finally asked, urgent, beyond worried.

Thor didn't hesitate to reply. "To warn you of what he has become. He conspired to have me banished and took Odin's throne for himself," he said harshly. "Consorted with Jötunnheim to cause chaos in Asgard. Betrayed his friends and his family and left Asgard crippled by forcing the destruction of the Bifrost Bridge. He fell into the void, Taryn, left us all. He is a traitor."

"I… I don't believe you." Now her words sounded strangled. "Thor, if he–if he fell like that–he would be dead."

His words became more urgent, as though Taryn was shaking her head in negation of his words. "I tell you the truth, I swear it. He has survived, I know he has. Loki would never have leapt without knowing he could land safely–_I know it_." Loki heard the quiet metallic slithering of Thor's armor as he moved, imagined him grasping Taryn's arms earnestly. "If you've seen my brother, I need you to tell me where he is. Don't protect him. I don't know what he's planning now, but he may well come for you, and it will go ill for you if he does."

"Are you _threatening_ me, Thor?"

Her flat, stunned tone was masterly, but Loki had had enough of this. He'd been gone long enough to fetch a towel and if a supposed mortal was present, Thor would stop telling her the things that had happened on Asgard. "No, damn it, I'm trying to _warn_ you. You may be in danger, Taryn!" Thor protested, and he released Taryn to gesture angrily at Loki when he reentered the room. "And _he_ certainly is!"

"Here," Loki said, throwing the towel to Thor and returning to Taryn's side. He drew her a step away, suspicion in every line of his body. "In danger from what? What the hell is going on here?"

"Don't worry, Luke. He's wrong. We're not in any danger," Taryn murmured, taking his hand as if to soothe him, but she never took her eyes off Thor. The god blew out a harsh sigh in frustration at her continued denial. "He valued you above everything, Thor. I know he would never betray his family," she said just as fiercely as he, a thousand emotions rioting in her voice and in her eyes as she argued for Loki with stubborn vehemence. "He must've had a plan and something went wrong, or maybe things got out of hand–he doesn't just snap and do crazy things without reason! As you yourself said, he _always_ knows what he's doing."

Thor squeezed the towel in both hands as if it were a neck he longed to throttle. "And can any of us say we have ever fully understood his reasons?" he finally growled, his frustration clear. He didn't wait for her reply before pulling a chain out of his pocket and holding it out to her. A tiny golden Mjolnir dangled from the thick chain, exquisitely detailed, a perfect replica in every way. Thor gazed earnestly into her dark eyes. "Accept this token and take my protection, Taryn, I beg you. Swear that you'll call for me if you see him. It may save your life."

Taryn didn't make any move to take the pendant and Loki was unutterably glad of that. Words could not express how much he did not want to see his brother's symbol at this woman's throat. Instead she reached out and laid a gentle hand on Thor's forearm. "He wouldn't hurt me," she said softly, utterly confident. "I'm not afraid of him. He's my _friend._"

Thor's knuckles went white on the chain, but he forced a slow, deep breath. So Thor had learned to rein in his legendary temper–Loki was actually impressed. The golden god took her hand from his muscled forearm and tried to place the hammer within it–she closed her fingers tight and would not open them.

Thor jabbed a hand through his hair in aggravation. "Taryn, please," he tried again. Clearly he hadn't yet learned how to give up. "He _was_ your friend, but you did not see how he was when I returned home. Something happened to change him while I was away. He was mad with it. I cannot guess what he will do next. You must swear to tell me where I can find him if he comes to you."

She shook her head again. "No. There has to be more to what happened than what you've told me," she persisted, and Loki squeezed her hand, attempting to tell her without words to stop defending him. She squeezed back but didn't heed him. "I don't understand any of this, but I can't just turn my back on him. I _won't_ turn my back on him."

Thor sighed heavily and some of the fight seemed to drain out of him. "Your defense of my brother is admirable and does you credit, but this path will lead you to no good. Please accept my word and believe me in this–he is unpredictable, _dangerous_. I must find him before things get worse for him."

"I'm not going to promise to betray my friend without even giving him the chance to tell me his side of the story," Taryn finally snapped, losing her own patience. She raised a hand in a helpless gesture when Thor would have argued again. "Anyway, would you really believe me if I did?"

Thor stood there a moment longer, hand still outstretched with the golden chain dangling between his fingers, before he finally sighed as though resigned to her rejection of his gift. He placed it on the counter instead. The little hammer glinted in the candlelight as if it contained a trace of Mjolnir's magic. "I still swear to protect you to the best of my ability. You are as loyal a friend as any man could pray for," he said sadly, shaking his head. "I hope only your noble heart does not lead you to harm."

"He earned my loyalty with his own. As he earned it from all of you," Taryn shot back. When Thor looked up sharply, she met his gaze steadily and didn't back down. He was the one to look away first.

As if that had been the signal she'd waited for, Taryn's voice softened when she went on. "But I'm not unreasonable, Thor, and I'm not stupid either. If he does contact me, I promise that I'll remember what you told me," she said, leaving Loki's side and returning to open the door in an unmistakable sign that Thor's welcome was waning. "I do appreciate you coming all the way here to warn me, and I won't tell him that you were here. But you should know that I'll listen to his side and only then, once I've heard what he has to say, I'll decide whether or not to call you. He's been a good friend to me. I owe him at least that much."

Thor sighed again but finally nodded. "I can ask no more of you than that, Taryn. You are a woman of honor as well as beauty. I understand why my brother loved you so. Just please, be wary. He's a talented liar."

Loki couldn't hide the stiffening of his spine and hoped like hell that Thor would take it as a jealous reaction rather than an indication of horror that his secret had been so casually spilled–if she hadn't figured it out already by Thor's behavior and insinuations since his arrival. Taryn, however, didn't seem to have even noticed it for all the reaction she gave the revelation. "I know exactly what he is," she said, but her posture didn't relax as she continued to hold the door open for him. "Thanks for the warning. Keep the towel. Goodnight, Thor."

The god shook his head and put it on the counter. "I came to leave gifts, not take them. I hope to hear from you, Taryn. Goodnight."

They waited until the rumbling thunder died away and the storm fully dissipated before either of them dared to relax. Finally, Loki let his body revert to his usual form with a shiver. "You should've promised to call him," he said, leaning against the counter and fighting to find a normal tone. "Now he'll be watching."

"It would've been suspicious," Taryn replied in a voice much less steady than his own. She tossed the towel over the puddle Thor had dripped onto her floor, then reclaimed her wine glass and drained it. "He knows me less well than you, but still better than that."

Wine seemed like a really, really good idea right now. Loki crossed the kitchen and picked up his own glass with a hand that trembled–from relief, from shock, and not least from the desire that still burned him from those endless minutes before they'd let Thor in. Had she heard his silent message? What would she do if he kissed her again now? The thought sent another shiver through his fingers and he quickly took a gulp of wine in an attempt to calm his nerves. It didn't work–he doubted even Frigga's legendarily strong wine could have steadied him right now.

"_Have_ you told me lies, Loki?"

Her question, soft and hesitant, dropped a block of ice in his heart and banished his tremors as nothing else could have. He didn't like that tone, not from her. She, who had nothing to fear from him, should never hesitate to ask him anything.

Taryn spoke again before he could, words tumbling out anxiously. "I don't mean teasing or jokes. I know you do that and I do it too. I mean, have you lied to me about important things?"

He carefully put the glass back down. No doubt he could talk his way out of answering her, but he wouldn't do that. Not after she'd sheltered him, and so passionately spoken of how the Æsir hadn't deserved him, and defended him from Thor's accusations… not after she'd kissed him, given him those sweet gasps of pleasure, wrapped him in her arms and hidden him in the fires of her passion to protect him from discovery. Giving her the truth now was the very least of what he owed her.

Loki knew he should look her in the eye when he answered, but he couldn't do it. He couldn't stand to see her disappointment in him. Instead, he directed his words to the far wall. "Yes," he finally admitted. "Twice."

She was looking at him–he could feel the intensity of her gaze, but he still couldn't meet it. "Only twice, in all these years?" He nodded silently. She stepped a little closer and reached out, but stopped before she touched him. "When? What about?"

Why was the truth so much harder than lying? He forced his lips to move, to reveal the easiest of them first. "I lied to you when I arrived last night. I wasn't banished. I left before Odin had the chance." His cold, flat voice was carefully stripped of all the roiling emotions that were trying to choke him. "I did everything Thor said, Taryn. All that he accused me of and more." He finally forced himself to meet her eyes but couldn't hold her gaze for more than a moment. "I am just as mad and dangerous as he claimed."

She took a slow, deep breath, then let it out in a rush. But she didn't move away. "Why?"

He stared fixedly at the wall, this time to hide how much it meant to him that she really was going to listen to his side of the story, just as she'd promised Thor. "Because I was never good enough for Odin, and now I knew why. I am not his son," he said, the words harsher as a bit of his anguish finally got through. "I wanted to prove that my loyalty was always to Asgard, never to Jötunnheim, that he was my true father no matter who had sired me. I won the war for Asgard and killed Lauffey myself, but even that wasn't good enough to prove me worthy. Nothing will ever erase the evil stain of being a Jötunn." The bitterness in his mouth threatened to choke him. He gulped down some wine to wash it away. "After Thor destroyed the bifrost bridge to save Jötunnheim, I jumped into the void between worlds."

"And came here to me."

She didn't ask why, and he didn't volunteer it. "Yes."

The silence was longer this time. Her hand rested close to his on the counter, but even that bare inch was too far for him to reach out to her. Had it really been only minutes ago that they were locked together in a passionate embrace, tongues dueling, close as skin? It seemed impossible.

"You're not evil, Loki. You didn't have to prove anything," Taryn said at last, breaking the silence.

He gave a humorless laugh. "Do you want the truth from me now, or another lie?"

"The truth." She was silent again, then finally asked the question he'd known was coming since Thor had made those damned comments. No matter what he'd hoped, she was too sharp not to have noticed it. "What was the other lie?"

This time, staring at the wall wasn't enough. Loki closed his eyes, turned his face away, and clenched his fists on the counter. "I have lied to you every moment of every day of the last five years when I came to you in the guise of your friend," he finally whispered, the rough words emerging in a voice that didn't sound remotely like his own. "Thor spoke true in all things."

Her sharp intake of breath was the loudest sound in the room because he'd stopped breathing. What she did next would determine if taking his next breath was worth it or not.

Her fingertips finally touched his fist and stayed there–a light touch, but a steady one. It was enough to unfreeze his lungs, but he didn't speak again. Finally, she found her voice. "Loki, I don't know what to say."

"Then say nothing." He'd far rather have her silence than her rejection.

Her fingers moved, but instead of pulling away, she urged his fist open and then laced her fingers through his. "I don't think that's going to work," she murmured, squeezing gently. "Not after tonight."

He finally opened his eyes and looked at her, and he didn't bother trying to hide the emotions in his eyes. "It was no act. I meant every second of what we did tonight," he whispered, answering the unspoken question in her gaze. "And were I given a chance, I would do it again a thousand times over." Now he was the one to hesitate. She had fooled Thor so utterly, lying with a skill few possessed, but surely she hadn't faked her passion in his arms. Even he wasn't that good of an actor.

_And you, Taryn. What did it mean to you?_ He tried to ask the question, truly he did, but the words refused to leave his tongue. He knew what he was–even if she seemed to be blind to it, he was a Jötunn, a murderous beast, most hated of all the enemies of the Nine Realms. She'd have to be mad to actually feel the same way for him, a Frost Giant. Thor was right, he didn't deserve her friendship, much less her love. It was insanity to think she'd want him.

But she held his gaze without hesitation. Then, slowly as though giving him time to flinch away, Taryn reached up and cupped his cheek with her other hand. Loki hardly dared to breathe as she leaned closer, then closer still, watching his every reaction. Her gaze finally wavered, dropping to his mouth. "I meant it, too," she admitted in the softest of whispers.

And Loki stopped caring about what was impossible and closed the last inch between them himself.

This kiss was different. There was no sense of panic at Thor's imminent arrival, no subterfuge, no disguising his desire for her as anything but utterly genuine. The honesty was almost terrifying, but it was worth it. Gods, it was worth it. Loki kissed her softly, slowly, hesitantly even, tasting her as though for the first time, expecting her to pull away at any moment.

But she didn't pull away, didn't hesitate at all. Her lips opened to him and he tasted her again, that sweet, addictive flavor of her mouth. Her tongue met his and teased him until he followed it inside. Loki finally put his arms around her, hands shaking with the force of his years of longing for exactly this moment, and now that it was here, it was all he could do to breathe. She sighed and let her hands slide into his hair as she surrendered to his lead, to the deepening of his kiss. She pressed closer and he felt the invitation in her action–if he asked for more, she would give it. The heady realization was almost enough to stop his heart.

This… it was too good to be true.

Loki broke the kiss, breathing heavily. "Don't do this unless you mean it," he whispered, wanting her so damn badly but not badly enough to take half measures. And she needed to know that he was no mortal to be toyed with and be fully willing to bear the consequences of what she did tonight. "Understand me now, Taryn. If you come to my bed, I will not let you take it back."

Taryn shook her head. "I won't want to," she assured him softly. She traced his lips with her fingertip, sending chills down his spine, and smiled at him before she kissed him once more.

This time Loki didn't hold back. He swept her up in his arms and delighted in her gasp of surprise. It took half a thought to extinguish the candles but he left the music on–the soft Classical strains seemed a perfect accompaniment. He carried her out of the kitchen, still kissing her, still slightly afraid to stop in case she reconsidered, and didn't stop until they reached her bedroom.

Taryn sighed into his mouth when he lay her almost reverentially on the bed. "You truly do have a silver tongue," she whispered when he finally broke the kiss to pull off his shirt and kick away his boots before joining her there. "I always wondered if that referred to more than your skill with words."

Her teasing compliment only served to feed the desire burning within him. He braced himself on his arms above her and grinned, well aware that it was wicked on his lips. "I look forward to showing you all it can do," he replied, bringing a blush to her cheeks and nothing but heat to her eyes. Gods, he could have stared at that expression on her face for the rest of eternity, but Taryn wasn't patient enough for that. She pulled him down to her and their mouths met and fused again, the kisses heating, quickening. Taryn's hands explored him and he couldn't hold back a groan as she feathered caresses over his chest, his shoulders, his back and arms. "I'm not too cold for you?" he breathed in her ear, not wanting the slightest discomfort to mar the pleasure he would give her, following the question by suckling her earlobe.

She moaned, arched beneath him, shook her head when he released the lobe with one final nip. "You're perfect," she assured him, and the breathlessness of her voice and the restless explorations of her hands continually tracing his chest and back reassured him as much as the words themselves. Her nails raked lightly over his nipples, shooting heat down his spine. "And you're making me hot enough for both of us."

Loki sucked in a deep breath and clenched his fists against the blankets. Praise–it was such a rarity for him, and so sweet from her lips. "Keep saying things like that to me and this might be over sooner than either of us would like," he whispered.

Taryn laughed, a sultry sound that hit him right in the heart. "I can't help it, Loki. Your mouth should be registered as a lethal weapon. Your voice is pure sex and your body is a work of art. I want to lick you all over, just start at the top and work my way down," she said as her hands slipped down his back and squeezed his ass. She wiggled beneath him as he half-collapsed onto her, and the combination of that and the feel of her so warm and welcoming beneath him tore a groan from his lips. "I need to get rid of all these clothes so you can touch me too–"

He kissed her then, stopping that sexy mouth almost desperately. The mental image of her doing what she'd said, licking her way down his body and tasting every inch of him, was nearly enough to make him come right now. "My lady's wish is my command," he murmured against her mouth, and with another thought and a quick gesture, her clothing vanished and left her bare and glorious in his arms.

But he left his jeans on. He needed the barrier between them, even if she didn't want it. Otherwise he might truly lose control.

Taryn moaned at the shimmer of his magic over her skin and he kissed a path down her throat, tasting her skin, the salt and sweetness of her. "Oh, Loki," she sighed, tangling one hand in his hair while the other continued to trace heated paths over him.

Gods, his name on her lips! Coupled with that breathy moan, it was the most erotic thing he'd ever heard. He returned to her mouth, licking deep, claiming her as she undid him completely. He wanted to reply to her in kind and praise her beauty, tell her of his wonder and joy at finally being able to touch her like this, but in this moment, the words that had always been his greatest strength utterly failed him. There were none strong enough to tell her what she meant to him, what she was doing to him, everything she made him feel. And even if there were, he didn't dare to speak them.

Instead he braced himself on one arm, freeing the other hand to finally, finally touch her as he'd longed to do for so long. She gasped and sighed into his mouth as he caressed her hip, learning the smoothness of her skin, her dips and curves. He trailed teasing fingertips over her waist, her navel, up to her ribs, but not to her breasts… not yet. She murmured in protest as his hand slid away, over her shoulder and down her arm. He didn't release her mouth to speak, though, only continued this kiss that was slowly turning his brain to molten lust as his hand reversed the path it had taken back down to her hip.

When he retraced the path again, teasing her, she tugged his hair hard and bit his lip in a demand he wouldn't let her speak. He laughed at her softly and let his knuckles just graze the side of her breast as he caressed her arm again. Taryn finally tore her mouth from his and growled, "Loki, damn you, if you don't touch me I swear I'll–"

He didn't find out what terrible fate she would inflict upon him because he suddenly dipped and sucked her nipple into his mouth. Her threat ended in a cry of pleasure as he swirled his tongue around the hard peak, flicking his tongue over it, suckling at her until she writhed beneath him. "You swear you'll what?" he murmured, pulling away and blowing a breath over the wet peak.

Taryn wrapped her legs around him and squeezed his hips tight with her thighs. The feel of that kicked the air from his lungs. "I swear I'll tie you down and torment you next, how about that?" she said breathlessly, clearly having learned how susceptible he was to her sexy words.

"Mmm, not much of a threat," he said, but he was shaking at the thought of being helpless and at her mercy while she did whatever she liked to him. Still, he couldn't surrender so easily. "You may not be clear on the concept, but a threat should be something I _don't_ want."

She tugged on his hair again, urging him to move–to kiss her again, touch her, do _something._ "You're a tease," she accused, glaring at him.

"I'm not a tease," he protested, but he knew his expression would never be taken for truly offended. "I will make good on every promise, you may be sure of that."

Then she grinned, and if he'd ever managed a smile that wicked, he couldn't recall it. "How about this? If you don't touch me, I swear I won't kiss you all over. I won't tear those jeans off you and lick you like an ice cream cone. I won't suck you deep and make you beg before I let you come. I won't let you slide inside me, deep as you can go, and I won't ride you until we're both blind with pleasure–"

"Mercy, my lady, you win. I am your slave," Loki groaned, breath catching in his throat, near to coming just at the thought of it and ready to give her anything she wanted to make those erotic promises a reality. She barely had time to laugh with triumph before he was back to her breasts, cupping them, kissing and sucking and licking, making her moan and cry out as he lavished all his attention on them. "I love the sounds you make," he said hoarsely between kisses. It wasn't poetry, it wasn't anything like what he wanted to say, but she moaned even louder for him.

"Aren't you still overdressed?" she gasped minutes later as he kissed his way down her ribs and over her stomach. "Loki, Loki, please, I need to feel your skin on mine, I want to touch you, let me touch you…"

He shuddered as her plea exploded inside him like throwing gasoline on a bonfire. He nibbled at her navel, bringing a gorgeous little cry from her, and his cock throbbed against his zipper in a demand he refused to answer, demanding friction, _release_. _No, _Loki snarled at his runaway libido, _I will_ not _spend like an overeager youth_, but it was so damn hard to crank that beast back into its cage. He hadn't ridden this knife-edge of near-painful lust since he'd lost his virginity hundreds of years ago. But now Taryn had him so fired up that it took all his self-control not to forget every bit of his legendary finesse and skill and just _take_ what he wanted so damn badly. "Not yet," Loki whispered while his body screamed _now, now, NOW!_

She wiggled beneath his tormenting mouth and he grasped her hips to keep her still. If she did much more of that… "I thought you were my slave," she moaned in protest.

"I am," he said, but he still didn't banish his jeans. Instead he kissed down to the patch of red curls between her thighs. "But I'm not finished yet. I believe I promised to show you just how I earned the name Silvertongue." If he only had this one chance to show her the pleasure he could give her, he was by damn going to make her see a galaxy's worth of stars.

She shivered and parted her thighs for him, her most intimate place open for whatever he chose to give her. The sight of such an erotic offering brought the ache in his groin perilously close to real pain. "Kiss me, Loki," Taryn moaned, and it was all he could do not to moan right along with her. "I want your mouth everywhere."

And that was a command he was only too happy to obey.

She cried out at the first touch of his tongue on her most sensitive flesh. Had he thought she sounded beautiful before? The cries he wrung from her now were music in his ears, a symphony of the sweetest kind. He didn't take it slow, but brought her to a shattering peak with all the skill and fervor burning within him. While she was still crying his name, he slid two fingers inside her, crooked them to find that special spot, and did it again. And again.

And every time she moaned and cried his name in ecstasy, arching and writhing and clutching at his hair, he became just that much more addicted to her.

After the third time, Taryn was almost incoherent with pleasure and Loki's body was one continual throb of need. "More?" he said, barely recognizing the desperate, hoarse sound of his own voice. His fingers still played inside her, making her shudder and whimper.

"Please, Loki," she gasped, opening her arms to him. "I need to feel you inside me."

There was nothing he wanted more. Finally he banished his jeans and crawled up her body, a feast for his lips, kissing a path back to her mouth, his fingers never stilling. She came again, gasping out her pleasure, and Loki kissed her desperately and stole the moans from her mouth. "My lady's wish is my command," he whispered, and then it was his turn to shudder and moan when she wrapped a hand around him and guided him inside her.

Hot, and slick, and tight, she lifted her hips to his slow thrust and took him to the hilt. Loki stilled when he was buried deep, face pressed to her shoulder, shaking and breathing like he'd run a marathon, trying to get on top of the ecstasy of finally, _finally _being inside her. She didn't make it easy. Legs locked around him, fingers digging into his back, she rained kisses over his face, his neck, his shoulders–every bit of him she could reach. "Taryn," he groaned, words failing him again, the muscles standing out on his arms as he fought with all his might to control himself, to make it last.

She squeezed him with her inner muscles and blinding, electrifying pleasure sizzled down every nerve. Loki's battle for control was that quickly lost, but never had any defeat been so glorious. His hips snapped back and forward, driving into her with all the desperation he'd sublimated for five long years. She matched him thrust for thrust, hips lifting to meet him, taking everything he had to give and demanding more. He kissed her again, devouring, all his finesse lost to overwhelming passion, breath rasping, every cell of his body filling with almost violent pleasure. Taryn came one last time, her voice hoarse from all the orgasms he'd given her, and the feel of her inner muscles clenching around him was the last straw his restraint could take. Loki cried her name as ecstasy more intense than anything he'd ever imagined enveloped him and carried him away.

When it was over, he rolled with her so that she lay upon his chest, limp and boneless with satisfaction, just as breathless as he. His hands trembled with amazement as he stroked her hair, her back. He'd wanted to addict her to him, give her so much pleasure she'd never even think of touching another man, but his plan had clearly backfired because now he couldn't imagine ever being with another woman. Nothing had ever, _could _ever come close to this.

"Swear to me you won't regret that," Loki rasped when he had enough breath to speak. It was the only promise he dared to ask of her.

Taryn raised her head from his shoulder and gave him an incredulous look. "Are you kidding?" she said as if the very thought had been insane. "Loki, how could I possibly regret making love with you?"

_Making love…_ not having sex. Of all the things she'd said tonight, all her praises and sexy suggestions, nothing hit him harder than that. He raised his head and kissed her, trying to put into the kiss all the things that he didn't dare to put into words. "Thank you," he whispered when he pulled away.

Taryn smiled and rested her head back on his shoulder. "Anytime," she sighed. "And I do mean that. My God, you're amazing."

He grinned at her praise, pride and satisfaction welling up within him. He'd never experienced anything sweeter than pleasing this woman. "I'll be your god," he teased, loving the feel of her laughter against his skin in response–heaven. "And I'll take you up on that offer as well," he added, meaning it, and fell asleep with her held tight in his arms.


	4. Restless

...

_Loki had been restless all his life, struck with wanderlust almost since he'd learned to crawl, but Asgard felt even more confining than usual to him that spring. He unearthed ancient secrets from his spellbooks and accompanied his brother, Sif, and the Warriors Three on all their adventures, but none of his triumphs satisfied him as they once had. Every time they approached Heimdall and left on another quest, Loki wished he could change their destination to Earth._

_He'd have called it _obsession_ but that was not correct, and as the Wordsmith, Loki knew the value of calling things by their proper names. It was just that he didn't want to face it. But as that spring heated into a sweltering Asgardian summer, Loki could no longer pretend that he wasn't in love._

_At first, he denied it. After all, he was not only immortal, he was acknowledged by all as the cleverest of the Æsir. Surely the brilliant Prince Loki couldn't be foolish enough fall into the trap of loving a mortal who had only a handful of years before death claimed her. But when that thought gave him nightmares–he, who had never suffered a single night's interrupted sleep even after the most harrowing of battles with demons and shadow creatures whose horrors should have haunted him–he could no longer force himself to think about her mortality. _

_Then Loki tried to convince himself he'd merely been ensnared by a passing fancy, something he would endure and shake off, because surely this mortal he'd known only a year couldn't hold his attention for long. None ever had. That tactic almost worked for a time, but when he attended one of Thor's banquets and found himself utterly unmoved by the attentions of the beautiful Æsir women his brother had invited, Loki was forced to admit that wasn't the truth, either. Gorgeous, immortal creatures that they were, they bored him. There was no challenge to them. And all they wanted was to capture one of Odin's princely sons, a fine trophy for any Æsir woman, even if Loki was always second to Thor._

_The truth was that he did love Taryn, this mortal woman with the strange ability to see him even when he cloaked himself in shadows, because she fascinated him. She knew he was the one in those myths she taught and yet she treated him like a man. She applauded the smallest bit of magic and begged for more, never mocking it or making him feel inferior that his skills ran more to sorcery than steel. She teased him, laughed with him, taunted him with her quick wit and never gave him a moment's peace when he visited. Verbal sparring with her was a delight and a challenge, something he never found on Asgard. She was intelligent, and beautiful, and when he looked at her, he wished he wasn't a prince with duties to the Allfather so he could stay with her._

_But when he visited her once and she casually mentioned a boyfriend, the jealousy that stabbed him stole his breath. Of course he wasn't the only one who would recognize her for the treasure she was, but damn it, she could have said no! Why had she agreed to date a mere mortal when she could have had him, Loki, prince and god?_

_And that was when his Trickster side got the best of him, and he'd breathed the spell before he could stop himself._

_During his next visit only a month later, Loki asked after her boyfriend with a nonchalance that any of his companions would have known meant trouble. Taryn hadn't known, however, and had answered with a shake of her head. "Clumsy," she said, "and superstitious, too. He kept breaking things when we would go out. He finally said I was bad luck and dumped me, the jerk."_

"_That's a shame," Loki said, keeping his sharp smile inside by force of will alone._

_After that, any man who dared try to date her had found their luck abominably bad. They had gotten tickets on the way to pick her up for dates no matter if they'd been speeding or not, or found their tires flat and their spares missing, or had even forgotten to show up for those dates entirely. They'd lost her phone number no matter how carefully they'd written it down and saved it to their phones. If they managed to make it to her door, they'd found their reservations canceled at restaurants, their seats filled at theatres, and bitter ex-girlfriends lying in wait everywhere to ruin the most romantic of dates. Loki knew he was being a bastard and didn't care. None of these fools deserved her, anyway. He was only keeping her from making mistakes with the wrong men._

_He'd only lifted the spell when she was almost injured in a car accident during a date, and he hadn't been sure if it was the fault of his little curse or not. No matter what, he had never meant her to be in harm's way. After that, he started visiting her more often, filling as much of her free time as he could reasonably manage, and hoped that would keep her from finding the time to get involved with anyone else._

_The frequency of his absences didn't go unnoticed on Asgard. Frigga had even sought him out, going so far as to find him in his study, a place few ever entered–it was Loki's most private space, his personal haven, and all respected it as such. "Loki, you leave us so often these days. Can you find no peace in Asgard, my son?" she asked gently, sitting beside him on the padded window bench and stroking his hair as she'd done when he was a little child. "You are missed at my table."_

"_I'm sorry, Mother," Loki said, and he truly was. No matter how hard he had to fight for Odin's love, Frigga had never shown any favoritism between him and his brother. She had her own gifts of magic and understood him as no one else on Asgard ever had. He would rather do almost anything than cause her the slightest pain. Loki struggled for a moment, wondering if he dared to tell her of Taryn, but finally didn't. That would make it too real. He looked down at his hands, the ancient book clutched in them, and in all its mysteries none of the answers he sought. "I have been… attending to something important on Midgard." _

_He didn't elaborate, and after a moment, Frigga had nodded as if understanding what had gone unspoken. "I have seen many things on Midgard from Hlidskalf," she said quietly, and Loki's head snapped up. She was the only one, other than Odin Allfather himself, who was permitted to sit upon that high seat and look out over the realms. _

"_What have you seen?" he asked, because unlike Odin, his mother could see both what was and what would be. He wanted to ask if Taryn could love him, if he could win her, if the joy of having her would be worth the pain of losing her after too few years, but those words tangled on his tongue and turned the silver to lead._

_Frigga smoothed his hair again, soothing him. "You know I cannot tell you that, my son," she said, but her eyes were bright and smiling as she held his gaze, as though there was something she wished she could say. "Perhaps one day, you will bring this precious thing from Midgard and share it with all of us, so that all may see."_

_He held his mother's gaze for a long moment, seeing her acceptance there, seeing more than that–her blessing? "Perhaps," Loki said, wishing she could speak of the future she saw, but that was the burden she bore–to know what would happen and be unable to tell any of it for fear of throwing the future into chaos. "If I am able to do so, Mother, I will." He would love to show Taryn the wonders of Asgard, but the likelihood of that was slim. Odin himself would have to give his blessing for her to pass Heimdall, and the Allfather gave that permission to very, very few._

"_I know," Frigga said, smiling again as she stood to leave him. She paused in the doorway, however, and looked back at her youngest son with love and sadness in her eyes. "Thor will always be your brother," she said, and left before he could ask her why she'd said it._

_By the time he'd understood, he no longer believed it._

...


	5. Silvertongue

...

Loki awoke before Taryn the next day, and for a long moment, he had to convince himself that he wasn't dreaming.

But it was real, the feel of her snuggled against him, her arm around his waist, her head on his shoulder, one thigh thrown over his legs. He let out a long, slow breath and stroked her hair away from her face with trembling fingers. After five years of wanting her in secret, of savoring every casual touch, this full-body contact was deeply intoxicating.

She murmured something against his skin and shifted in his arms. Loki used the movement to gently disentangle himself from her. Oh, how he wanted to stay in her bed like this–wanted it so badly that something inside him just knew he couldn't have it. If she woke up and regretted what they'd done, he didn't want to read that on her face. Despite the ease with which she'd fooled Thor last night, she wasn't a practiced liar like Loki–her thoughts showed too clearly and he knew her well enough to read every one in her eyes. Better, then, to leave her sleeping and try to prepare himself for whatever would happen.

He did look back from the doorway after he pulled on his jeans, though, for just one more glimpse to freeze into his memory. Red hair mussed over the pillows, peaceful, beautiful face, one bare arm reaching over the place where he'd lain beside her as though searching for him, and that mark he'd left on her throat, vivid, a testament to his passion… _Please don't let this be the only time_, Loki thought, knuckles white as he grasped the doorframe and wishing he believed in anything enough to pray to it. Wishing also that he dared to return to her side, but he couldn't make himself risk her rejection.

Loki resolutely turned his back and walked into the kitchen to start coffee, trying to prepare himself for what would happen when she awoke. If the worst happened, he would tear last night from her mind, take the memory of Thor's comments and his own confessions and return them to how they'd been before–just friends, never lovers. And maybe he'd erase his own memory as well. He couldn't imagine living with the knowledge that he'd touched her once and could never do so again.

As plans went, it was horrible. But it was the only one that he could live with. Seeing her pity him, or worse, pull away from him, was just not an option.

As always, the aroma of brewing coffee awakened her. Loki heard her moving around in the bedroom and closed his eyes, taking several slow, calming breaths. Then, masks in place, face set in a casual, friendly cast, he concentrated on the coffee so he could meet her with a cup already prepared as he usually did.

Bare, quiet footsteps entered the kitchen. He carefully scooped a small spoonful of sugar into the mug, staring at it as though this task took all his concentration. "Morning," he said over his shoulder, not turning.

She laughed softly behind him. "What does a girl have to do to get you to say _good_ morning?" she teased.

A gentle touch on his bare back made Loki close his eyes as hope and fear warred inside him, but she'd touched him like that before. He needed a clearer sign from her.

It came a second later. Her other hand joined the first, then both slid around his waist and she leaned against him. Unable to stop himself, he covered one of her hands with his and when she entwined their fingers, he released the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding all this time. "You're certainly on the right track," he said.

Taryn laughed again and kissed his back. Shivers chased down his spine. "I didn't expect to wake up without you," she murmured against his skin, and it was definitely a complaint.

"Well, someone has to make you coffee." Now he teased back, finally daring to believe that she hadn't lied last night, that she didn't regret what they'd done. Her lips curved into a smile on his skin, an intoxicating sensation indeed. "What would you like for breakfast?" he asked, finally turning to face her.

And immediately froze, because Taryn wore only his green silk shirt–open all the way–and a tiny pair of black panties beneath it. She smiled, clearly pleased by his obvious appreciation, and stepped into his arms. "You," she said simply, winding her arms around his neck. "Is that on the menu?"

The smile on his face was nothing like the others he'd ever given her–there was nothing hidden in it. He didn't even try. "For you, my lady, always," he said, and kissed her.

She met his tongue without hesitation, so sweet, her body soft and warm as she pressed against him. Loki had to bite back a groan of protest when she pulled away far too soon. "Tell me something," she said as her fingers played in his hair and those dark eyes held him captive.

"Anything."

Her lips curved in a smile. "Did you have anything to do with all the bad luck that seems to hit anyone I dated over the last few years?"

Loki put on an innocent expression, then laughed when she tugged his hair, telling him wordlessly that she didn't buy it. "Did I have anything to do with it? No," he said, and grinned when she raised a doubting eyebrow. "Did I have _everything_ to do with it? Yes."

Taryn laughed and shook her head at him. "You are a very bad man," she said with mock-severity.

"No," Loki contradicted, and he leaned down, letting his mouth brush hers and savoring her shiver. "Here, I am a very bad _god._ Aren't you glad I'm on your side?"

Taryn tugged on his hair again, bringing his mouth back to hers, kissing him, teasing him, nipping at his lip when she pulled away again. "Very," she whispered, one hand leaving his hair to trace teasing patterns on his bare shoulders. "Now do I get my breakfast or not?"

"Most definitely." And, showing off for her, Loki spoke a secret word under his breath and teleported them back to her bed. She laughed when they arrived and he stole the sound with more kisses, losing himself in her.

Later, when they lay together breathless and trembling in the aftermath, Taryn kissed his chest and hugged him tight. "Now will you call this a good morning?"

"Certainly not." She gasped in outrage and Loki laughed, catching her fist as she tried to thump him on the chest in retaliation. "_Good_ far too dull a word for it," he explained, still somewhat unable to believe that he wasn't going to wake up from this dream. "Try something more like amazing, mind-blowing, wonderful, magical…"

Smiling now, she raised herself on her crossed arms across his chest and looked down at him. "Well, I suppose you are the resident expert on magic, so you should know it when you see it."

"Mere trickery compared to you," he told her, stroking her back, the curve of her rear, and still marveling that she allowed him to do such things. "Every touch of your hand is magic, my lady. Every kiss ensorcells me all the more."

Taryn smiled and kissed him. "Silvertongue," she murmured fondly against his mouth.

He cupped her cheek and held her gaze, not hiding the emotion in his, the things he couldn't say even now when she lay naked and sated in his arms, and wished he dared to tell her now how desperately he had loved her all these years. Wished he could tell her that if he could have one wish, it would be to stay like this with her for the rest of eternity, that Asgard and Odin and Thor could go to hell and all the Nine Realms with them if he could just have her at his side.

But it was too much. She'd stripped him of lies last night and exposed his heart, but she hadn't responded in kind, and no matter how wonderful this moment was, Loki hadn't forgotten that. "You rob me of words," he whispered instead, and kissed her before she could reply.

Taryn sighed happily and cuddled against him when he finally released her lips. For a long time, he just held her as she dozed, stroking her hair or back or thigh, soaking up every memory he could to savor later. Against his will, his mind returned to Thor's visit last night, worrying over every word his brother had said. And damn him for not being able to stop thinking of Thor as his brother, but centuries of habit couldn't be broken so easily.

_You may be in danger, Taryn, and _he_ certainly is!_

Much as Loki would've liked to deny it, he wasn't sure Thor hadn't been right in the warning he'd delivered to Taryn's supposed lover. What would Loki have done if he'd come to Taryn and found her with another man? The way he'd felt the night he'd arrived, Loki honestly didn't know. Would he have had the restraint to leave and find another haven?

… no. No, he wouldn't. If he'd witnessed Taryn kissing another man with the passion she'd shown him last night, Loki would've shattered the bastard. All the bad luck her boyfriends had experienced over the years would be nothing compared to his wrath now. He hadn't come to Taryn because he had no other haven to run to–with his magic, he could _make_ a safe haven anywhere.

He'd come to Taryn because he wanted her, because he loved her, because he was starting over and whatever came next, he needed her at his side. And no mere mortal would stand in his way.

A gentle pinch on his hip startled him. He hadn't realized she was awake. "You're thinking," Taryn murmured sleepily. "Stop it."

Loki released the thoughts with a sigh and kissed her forehead. "I have a difficult time doing that," he admitted.

"Just because you're smarter than everyone else doesn't mean you have to think all the time," she chided, and he smiled at the backhanded compliment.

Taryn yawned, stretched, her body lithe and long against his, and Loki suddenly wanted her again with a passion bordering on madness. "Again?" she laughed when he rolled her beneath him with clear intent, and her eyes sparkled with humor. "I think the bards missed one of your names in the old stories–Loki the Insatiable."

He kissed a line down her throat, feeling her pulse speed beneath his lips. "It's your own fault for being irresistible, and you did say I should stop thinking," he countered, and then there were other things for his mouth to do than speak, and other things for his mind to concentrate upon than his troubles. There was passion, and ecstasy, and wonder, and something so rare for him that he almost didn't recognize it–joy.

That day became one of the best of Loki's life. After they made love again, they showered together, and Taryn had made good on her promise to lick him all over. When she'd knelt before him and swallowed his cock, Loki had almost torn the showerhead out of the wall from gripping it so tightly. Taryn looked up at him, watched him come undone, lose every semblance of control, and when he came with a force he never would've believed possible, she drank him down and laughed with sultry feminine satisfaction when he nearly fell.

Later, they snuggled on her couch, and he found himself telling her things he'd sworn he never would. He told her of never belonging on Asgard, of always being different, a mage in a world of fighters. Of trying to please a father who would never understand the son so inclined to sorcery and wordplay rather than martial arts, of Loki's confused feelings for Thor and the jealousy of all the things Thor had that he wanted. It was so effortless, the way Thor made everyone love him, while Loki had to fight and claw for any scrap of attention. He hated him for that and always had, but he also loved him helplessly, the elder brother he couldn't stop looking up to.

He told her of everything he'd done to try and earn the respect that should have been his by right as a prince, a thousand desperate quests culminating with his acquisition of Mjollnir and Gugnir from the dwarves. He'd brought them to Asgard proudly, bright treasures he'd given away without hesitation, wanting only to see Odin smile and acknowledge that no other Æsir could've accomplished such a feat. That Loki's chosen weapon of words was a true one for no strength of arms could ever have wrested those treasures from the dwarves, but Loki had convinced them to give those things freely. All he'd wanted was for Odin to be proud.

And he told her of ending that day on his knees before the full court of Asgard as his mouth was sewn closed while the Æsir watched and did nothing to stop it.

Taryn held him and didn't interrupt. She'd heard the stories, he knew–she studied him and made her life out of teaching them. But he'd only told her of his triumphs before, those adventures where he'd succeeded by power or intelligence. He'd never spoken to her of these stories, the ones where he was mocked, scorned, humiliated.

"Months passed and I walked Asgard like that," he said, unsure why he was speaking of this now but somehow unable to stop. "Even Thor did nothing to ease me. The Æsir are able to heal almost any wound, as you know–" He hesitated, then said, "Although I suppose I should say the _Jötunn_ heal, instead. I had to wait for my body to expel the stitches on its own. The dwarves and the Æsir both said I had no honor, but I was honor-bound to leave them there, and I did." He'd endured the torment to prove otherwise, but instead of earning him respect, he'd just gained more mockery.

"How did you eat?" Taryn asked, her voice a horrified whisper as she held him still tighter.

"I didn't," Loki said flatly. He rubbed his lips, still feeling the pain of the stitches, the agony of trying to open his mouth enough to allow even a trickle of wine to pass his lips. By the time the stitches had finally gone, he'd been little more than skin and bones, a skeletal version of his former self. It had taken nearly a year to recover from his starvation.

Taryn was silent, just holding him, her face pressed against his shoulder. Loki jerked when he felt the warmth of her tears on his skin. "Don't cry," he said, cupping her face in his hands and raising it so he could kiss the tears away. "I survived it. I'm fine."

"Next time I see Thor, I'm going to punch him," she said fiercely through her tears. "Ungrateful bastard! He should have done something. He's your brother."

Loki actually smiled at the thought of her fighting Thor even though that title of brother still stung. He changed the subject, still uncertain why he'd brought this one up in the first place. He told her a more amusing tale now, of dressing as a woman with Thor to reclaim Mjollnir from the giant Thrym. Thor's utter lack of any acting ability had complicated their quest at every turn and Loki's lies had to become more and more elaborate to cover for him. "He didn't even shave his beard. I'm still not sure how I'd have explained that," he said, and when Taryn laughed herself to tears, he found himself laughing too.

As the afternoon wore on, Loki described the cosmos for her, creating vivid illusions with the wave of a hand and delighting in her awed gasps at the wonders he showed her. Through it all, she stayed cuddled against him, her body warm and soft, arms around him. He tried to explain some of the physics of the bifrost to her but she just shook her head, almost immediately lost. "That isn't even magic," he said when she laughingly protested that she didn't understand a word he was saying. "Your people could do it if they just knew the equations."

"It's magic to me," Taryn said, shaking her head again. Then she smiled at him and cupped his cheek in her hand. "Everything about you is magic to me, Loki."

_I love you._ The words were on the tip of his tongue and he had to clench his teeth together to keep them there. _No,_ he told himself, kissing her to busy his mouth before he said more than he'd intended. All these stories today, that was giving her his heart, and she was intelligent enough to figure that out. He didn't need to say those words–they were, after all, only words, and it would crush him to say them when he knew she wouldn't return them. If she loved him, she would've said so last night, or earlier when they were tangled sweaty and breathless in her sheets, bodies straining together.

But even if she didn't love him as he loved her, she cared for him, accepted him, let him hold and touch her, and right now he would make that be enough.

Taryn was smiling when he broke the kiss, and the tenderness in her eyes was nearly his undoing. When she looked at him like that, all his reasons broke down and he could almost believe that she really could love him, that he could say it and it would be all right. He didn't. "Wine?" he said instead, because the sun was lowering in the sky and they'd talked until his voice was dry.

She nodded and left to get them glasses, and they ended up ordering Chinese takeout and watching movies late into the night. Or rather, Taryn watched movies, and Loki watched her. When she left him in the middle of a movie and returned with a new bottle of wine, she held it out to him and said, "Chill this for us?" And when Loki had allowed his hand to revert to its true Jötunn blue and held the bottle for a few seconds to do so, she'd grinned instead of flinching.

They made love one last time before sleeping, slow and sweet now, without the desperation that had been driving him before, because Loki was starting to believe that each touch wouldn't be the last. When she slept in his arms again, her breath sweet on his skin, the words finally escaped his lips. "I love you," Loki whispered into her hair, and he was wrong–there was a power in saying those words to her that rocked him, shook him, even now when she was beyond hearing them. He raised her hand, kissed her palm, and murmured it again against her skin.

"I love you."

...

_Loki had known Taryn for a little over two years when he introduced her to Thor. Not by his choice, either–his brother had demanded to know what was so fascinating about San Diego that Loki returned so very often, especially since he knew it wasn't to train with the SEALs. Heimdall wouldn't tell him and that had done nothing but fuel Thor's curiosity. The next time Loki had casually mentioned he would be gone for a few days, Thor had demanded to accompany him and refused to be put off. No one, not even Loki, could sway Thor when his mind was set on an action._

_So one summer day they'd arrived at Taryn's door, two Æsir princes in Midgardian garb. Taryn had been delighted to see Loki and had welcomed him with her customary hug, but when she saw Thor standing behind him, her eyes had widened and her jaw dropped. Loki had quite reluctantly stepped aside to allow her to look her fill. His brother stood on her porch with complete masculine confidence, all long blond hair, cheeky, sexy grin, broad shoulders and arms bulging with roped muscle that the tight tee-shirt he wore utterly failed to hide, the mighty Mjollnir casually held at his side, and Taryn hadn't been able to tear her gaze away from him._

_Loki had known it was coming, but seeing it still stabbed at him, and he took refuge in coldness. "May I present my brother, Thor Odinsson," Loki said, making the introductions and pushing down the desire to take that damned hammer and make Thor eat it, or to cast a spell and cover his brother in green warts. "Brother, meet Taryn Roswell."_

"_Thor?" Taryn echoed, her voice just short of awe. "Really Thor?"_

_Thor bowed over her hand and kissed it, bringing a blush to Taryn's cheeks and nothing but fury to Loki as he found himself pushed once more into Thor's shadow, second place again. It stung all the more here where he'd always been first. "Taryn–the name means _little princess_ in the old tongue. Truly a lovely name for a lovely maiden. The pleasure is indeed mine, lady," Thor said smoothly, smiling up at her, still holding her hand. Loki scowled, not that either of them noticed. Taryn blushed and, clearly flustered, invited them both inside._

_Loki hated every minute of it. _

_Thor was charming, as he always was in the presence of a beautiful woman. He'd kept up a gentle stream of flirtatious small talk as Taryn cooked a meal for them–a task she usually shared with Loki in teasing companionship, but Loki would be damned before he would slave for his brother today. Not here. Thor spoke to her of the stories she knew, the legends, had praised her for her near-perfect recollection of Æsir mythology. In return, Thor recounted his famous battles for her, fascinating her with the details Loki knew she always craved._

_Through it all, Loki sat with deceptive calm at her table, sipping glass after glass of the wine he'd opened without bothering to ask and wishing it was Frigga's potent vintage because mortal spirits did nothing for him. Taryn kept trying to draw him into their conversation but he refused to be drawn. Instead, Loki just watched the two of them laugh and talk, dismissed to the background, speaking only when directly spoken to and then in a dry, sarcastic tone familiar to his brother but which he'd never used with her before._

_He'd noticed her puzzled glances as the afternoon progressed but had done nothing to explain himself. Thor, however, seemed completely oblivious to his brother's mood, so absorbed was he in Taryn's obvious admiration. Her smiles finally began to dim when Loki didn't join in their laughter and he was perversely glad of it. When Thor vanished to wash his hands after the meal, Taryn had rounded on Loki with hands on hips. "What's gotten into you today?" she demanded._

_He inclined his head to her, lips twisted in an expression only a fool would take for a smile. "I do apologize for dimming your enjoyment of Thor's company," he said sardonically, cold and tightly controlled. "Would you prefer I left you two alone?"_

_Taryn hit him then–surprising both of them, because she was not a violent woman–but his shoulder stung from her slap, more from the fact that she'd done it than any actual pain caused from the blow. "That's not what I meant and you know it–you're the one who brought him here!" she hissed, shaking her hand because while he would never be as beefy as his brother, Loki had spent centuries training in all arts of war and his body was tightly muscled and hard as a rock. "I'm sorry if I'm pissing you off by being civil to him, but what do you want me to do? Be a bitch? Kick him out?"_

Yes,_ he thought viciously, _be a bitch, stop smiling at him, stop laughing at his stupid jokes, stop letting him charm you_, but he didn't say it. In fact, he was spared the necessity of saying anything at all by Thor's return, his thousand-megawatt smile in place. "Shall I tell you of our most recent adventure to Svartalfheim, Taryn?" Thor offered, and clapped Loki on the shoulder she'd just hit. If he noticed the stiffness of his brother's posture or the tension between him and Taryn, Thor didn't comment on it. "Loki here was particularly valiant on that day."_

"_Yes," Taryn said, still looking at Loki, brow furrowed, not understanding why he was so angry, before finally turning back to Thor. "Yes, please, I'd love to hear."_

_When sunset painted the sky in hues of fire, Thor declared that they must return to Asgard and Loki couldn't help but note how disappointment clouded Taryn's dark eyes. He wondered bitterly if it was because he was going, or because Thor was leaving. Taryn hadn't enlightened him as she walked them to the door. Thor again captured her hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles, but this time she didn't blush or laugh. Loki only gave her a short, icily proper bow and made to follow his brother out._

_But Taryn stopped him with a hesitant hand on his arm. Loki froze, for that little contact was yet another one he'd store up and treasure later, and despite his churning jealousy and anger, he would do nothing to break it. "Loki?" she whispered, but although he waited, she said nothing else._

_He turned back to her and read the confusion and misery in her dark eyes. _Damn it,_ he thought viciously, suddenly hating himself for being such an ass today. Never did he wish to put anything but happiness on her face, and he knew that expression was solely due to his behavior. He covered her hand with his and that seemed to give her the courage to go on. _

"_Will you… will you be back?" she asked, uncertain when she'd always been confident of his friendship. Then she squeezed his arm and rushed on. "I'd like you to come back. Please."_

"_Shall I bring Thor to amuse you again?" The question was quiet, bitter, the words falling like ice from his lips._

_She shook her head, not looking past him to his brother. For now, in this moment, all Taryn's attention was Loki's. "Just you," she whispered._

_Something in him, that frozen core of anger, thawed a little. He let the mask slip aside and gave her just one smile, but it was a real one. "If I am still welcome, I will return," he said, and there was an apology in his tone if she chose to hear it–genuine and contrite, nothing like the one he'd given when she'd hit him. _

"_You are," Taryn replied, relief in her eyes, and she returned the smile. "You always are." _

"_You are gracious, Taryn." Then, imitating his brother, Loki had lifted her hand from his arm and kissed it–a soft kiss, holding her gaze, lips lingering on her skin, and her cheeks had burned brighter than the sunset. He'd held onto that expression throughout the trip back to Asgard, that her reaction to him had been so much stronger than hers to Thor. It was a small thing, besting his brother, but of such small things was his love of her built, and this one was so precious._

_After that, Thor had accompanied him to see her but rarely, and even though Loki had never said a word to him, his brother's behavior toward her changed. He didn't kiss Taryn's hand when they met and while Thor could never hide all that charisma, he'd toned down the overt charm. Even Fandral, notorious womanizer that he was, hadn't flirted much with Taryn when the full gang had visited her during the Ninja Warrior tryouts, and Loki pretended he hadn't seen Thor pull him aside for a quick whispered conversation before they'd taken the bifrost to Midgard._

_But mostly, Loki had come to see her alone, and Taryn had never found cause to hit him again._


	6. Master of Magic

The alarm clock woke Loki the next morning, briefly disorienting him. He wasn't used to such things–he had no need of such harshness to start his day. He awakened at the time he chose, always had.

Taryn reached over him and slapped feebly at the offending clock, missing the snooze button three times before Loki took pity and hit it for her. She tightened her arms around him and sighed. "Don' wanna get up," she muttered against his chest. "Make it yesterday again."

He laughed softly at her sleep-slurred words. Could he do that now? He briefly considered trying, but his few experiments in time-manipulation had never gone particularly well. Of course, now he had power to spare, but he'd hate to fail in front of Taryn. "Alas, the sun waits for no one," he said instead.

She groaned a protest and he caressed her hair. "Want coffee?" he offered.

"No," she said, and finally raised her head to look at him. "Want you."

Loki smiled, a slow expression that brought an answering smile from her in return. "You're sure I'm the one who's insatiable?" he teased, but he'd awoken wanting her and it wasn't like she would ever have to ask him twice.

Taryn pretended to be offended but she was already sliding over him, her skin silken and intoxicating against his. "Mmm hmm," she said as she straddled his hips and his hands cupped her breasts. "It's definitely all you."

And then she slid down over him, taking him deep, and when the alarm clock buzzed again, Loki banished it to an alternate dimension for daring to interrupt the pleasure she gave him.

Later, when Taryn vanished into the shower, scolding him for making her late for work, Loki made coffee again with a smile that just wouldn't go away. Gods, he could get used to this–awakening in her bed, loving her, taking care of her. He prayed he'd get the chance to get used to it. He poured her coffee and was reaching for the sugar when his gaze fell on the tiny golden Mjollnir perched atop its coiled chain where Thor had left it. It still gleamed as though reflecting flickering flames even though there were now no candles giving off such light.

Loki started to pick it up, then stopped short before he touched it. Instead, suspicious, he held his hand over it and concentrated on sensing if anything else had been worked into the gold. After a moment he did indeed find several enchantments twisted within the metal, woven into the very atoms of the gold itself. No one on Asgard could have created this. It stank of the magic of the dwarves. To think that Thor had bartered with them when he hated them so–how badly must he want to find Loki to deal with them for this little hammer's creation?

And as he untangled the spells, Loki knew it was a good thing he hadn't touched it. The ones meant to weaken his ability to walk through shadows were easy enough to shrug off–nothing could stop him from that now. Harder to dismiss was the summoning charm, coded to respond to Loki alone. He wasn't sure who it would call, but from the locating spell he detected next, they would've been led right to him had he so much as brushed a fingertip over the metal.

Of course that would have been Thor's plan, Loki realized with mounting anger–to mark Taryn with Thor's personal symbol, something Loki would never stand for, not on this woman. Had she actually worn it, he would have torn it from her, and that would've been all it took to activate the trap. Loki could almost admire Thor for actually _having _a plan for once if it hadn't been one designed to take advantage of his weakness for Taryn. It dragged her into the war between them, and that was a place Loki would never allow her to be.

"You would dare bring my woman into this?" Loki whispered, the energy in his hand morphing into green fire that he blasted down at the necklace with all his fury. It shattered, melted, the gold destroyed and scattered down to the molecular level, and even that wasn't enough to vent his anger. "Do you really think that wise, when yours is just as vulnerable?" More vulnerable, in fact, because Thor had no skill for magic and Jane would have none of the protections Loki had woven around Taryn.

"Loki, who are you talking to?"

He banished the scowl from his face before he turned to her and smiled. Thor would be dealt with later–nothing would distract Loki from every moment he had with Taryn now. "Myself," he lied, and held out her coffee. "Do you have many classes today?"

She'd dressed after the shower, and while her hair was still damp, she looked sleek and extremely professorial in her smart suit and heels. It was tempting to pull those pins from her hair and unwrap the layers of her suit, break through all that polish and unleash the passionate woman within, but Loki resisted the urge. She took her position at the university very seriously.

"Unfortunately, yes. I have classes until six on Tuesdays and Thursdays," she sighed after taking a sip of coffee. Then she looked at him over the brim of the mug, eyes sparkling. "I'd much rather stay home with you."

He grinned at that. "Tell them you're taking a research sabbatical," he teased. "After all, don't all good professors have to track down reliable sources?"

Taryn laughed and went up on her toes to kiss him. She clearly intended it to be quick, but he caught her around the waist and deepened it, not letting her go until she was breathless. "I like this kind of research," she said, trailing a hand down his bare chest. "I could tell them I'm researching Loki in his guise of seducer. You've got a reputation, you know."

"Several of them," he agreed, but something in her eyes told him she wasn't joking as much as she'd like him to believe. It stole his pleasure in their play. "This isn't about that," he told her, going serious. She did too, and now he saw that something more clearly–it was uncertainty in her eyes, the same thing that had been plaguing him ever since Thor's visit. He tightened his arms around her. "Taryn, know that this isn't a game to me. It's far more than that."

Now that emotion was naked in her gaze. "I want to believe that," she whispered, hand stilling over his heart. "Because it's more than that to me, too, Loki."

He wondered if she felt his heart stutter beneath her palm. It wasn't a declaration of love, but it was still far more than he'd dared let himself hope for from her, and he kissed her again with something like desperation. She returned the kiss just as passionately, hands tangling in his hair, holding him her willing prisoner as her lips and tongue danced with his and turned his every thought to fire. "Tell me more about that when you get home," he breathed against her lips when the kiss finally ended, and she smiled at his breathlessness and nodded.

After Taryn left for the university, Loki wasn't quite sure what to do with himself. He tidied up her kitchen, but chores were never enough to stop his mind from working. Would Thor have heard his murmured warning this morning? He'd half expected the charms on that necklace to activate when his magic destroyed them, but no one came to her home for him. In a way, he was quite disappointed about that, still enraged that Thor would dare try to use Taryn. In another way, he was relieved, because he recognized these last few days as a precious thing, stolen out of time, something that he could never get back once it was gone. Ending them by destroying half the neighborhood with a battle with Thor was not something he was prepared to do yet.

But he knew that confrontation couldn't be put off forever, so he began to prepare himself for the inevitable. He retrieved his Æsir clothing and repaired the damage that had been done to his armor during that chaotic trip through the wormhole from Asgard to Earth. Charms flowed from his lips as green light danced over the weakened areas, hardening the metal and leather to the impenetrability of dragon scale. Then he summoned his throwing knives from the pocket between dimensions where he kept them and cast spells over them, too–honing their edges, making them resistant to deflection, giving them a homing power that would let them fly around corners and strike the targets he directed them toward, infusing them with a few more tricks Thor would never see coming. He'd never been able to do this before, to embue such strong enchantments on his weapons without the magic expenditure draining him to the point of uselessness, but even after all of this, Loki still burned with power.

Yes, traveling without bifrost had definitely been worth the risk. He felt like he could make the universe spin in his hand if he wanted it.

Finally finished with his weapons and armor, he tucked them back into the dimensional pocket. That necklace still nagged at him, though. If Loki hadn't gotten to her first, would Taryn have actually worn the thing? The idea of it dangling about her throat made him scowl.

Suddenly he waved his hand with a secret word stolen from the dwarves, master craftsmen who guarded their secrets zealously but not carefully enough to keep Loki from finding them. A moment later, a platinum chain coalesced from nothingness to wind about his fingers. The chain itself seemed to slither and twist in the sunlight as it morphed and changed, becoming a Oroborous snake, biting its own tail to create an unbroken circle–Loki's own symbol. Every detail of the snake received his closest attention because this could be nothing other than perfect. Each scale, every feature formed beneath his gaze. Then Loki braced himself, opened his mind to the deepest well of power inside him, and murmured another word.

The snake opened glittering green eyes, jewels so vivid they almost looked alive.

These weren't emeralds. Loki called them into being from chaos itself, channeling the magic and taming it, branding it with his own mark to create two bright green stones made of pure power. He wove protections into them, words that would let him see through those eyes if he had need, ones that would trigger immediate protections from all the dangers he could imagine, ones that would call him if she was hurt by things he couldn't, others that would return her pain a thousand times amplified to the one who'd harmed her. He spoke spells that would let him hear her whenever she said his name, would let him find her no matter where she was hidden. Loki chanted over the necklace for what felt like hours, pouring so much of his power into it that it heated to glowing red in his hand. The force of his will alone kept the chain from melting as he worked it with all the skill he possessed, making it unbreakable, perfect. If Thor had thought to impress Taryn with his little golden hammer, Loki intended nothing less than to awe her with a treasure worthy of a queen among gods.

He felt the metal shudder, nearly alive in his hand, and at last he spoke a final spell. The effort of channeling so much magic finally exhausted him, sending a wave of dizziness through his body, but it was done. Loki clutched the necklace tight, already planning how he would give it to her, how he would make it a gift she wouldn't refuse, because he _needed_ her to accept this. While Taryn wore this, nothing in all the realms could harm her.

Not even time itself. While the chain touched her, her lifespan would equal Loki's own. He would never have to watch her age. Not even death could take her from him.

Would she agree to such a commitment? The only way to know was to ask, because even with all his newfound power, he hadn't been gifted with the ability of prophesy. Loki remembered that look on her face before she'd left this morning and took a slow, deep breath. That emotion in her eyes, the taste of her kiss, the way she'd held him… Loki had a hard time with hope, something that had rarely done him any favors, but he truly had hope now.

Tucking the necklace into his breast pocket where it throbbed with energy, Loki put the thoughts aside and went to Taryn's computer next. Hacking was a skill as natural to him as breathing. Once Taryn had shown him how to use her computer years ago, he'd found the threads of the internet easy to untangle. Breaking through SHIELD's security was no challenge at all, not to him. He traipsed through their files, finally finding the one they'd begun to assemble on him, and realized something else with a shock.

He hadn't arrived on Midgard the same night he'd fallen from the shattered remnant of Asgard's Rainbow Bridge. That journey, buffeted and pummeled between the realms, had taken him over three months–no wonder his body had been so weak when he'd arrived on her doorstep! He sat back in the chair, remembering everything about the journey–tossed helplessly through black holes and plunged into burning suns, screaming spells and eating fire as he passed through the galaxy's heart and back again, absorbing magic in its rawest form from the universe itself.

Long ago he'd been called a god by men, given the title merely for his longevity and the power all Æsir shared. Now, however… now Loki could almost believe he deserved the name. Even now, so soon after creating this necklace which was the most powerfully enchanted item he'd ever bespelled, Loki felt his magic surging back, recharging with almost frightening speed.

He shook his head sharply, banishing the thought, tempting as it was. Once the Æsir began believing they were the gods that humans called them, inevitably they lost. And Loki didn't have much left to lose. He refused to allow himself to fall into that trap and lose Taryn, too.

Reading on, Loki saw that SHIELD had been busy in those three months. Now he knew how Thor had come here. His Jane had created a new Bifrost Chamber here on Earth, bringing Thor to Earth again just weeks after the destruction of the Rainbow Bridge. He could only imagine that the Æsir would recreate their own Chamber soon enough, if they hadn't already. Truly, she was a remarkable scientist. Despite his annoyance at Thor coming to Taryn's home, Loki was truly glad that the Bifrost was operational once more.

He continued reading and was impressed by the team SHIELD had put together to safeguard Jane's invention. Thor was only one part of their might. Billionaire playboy Tony Stark provided the funds and technology for the group–a mortal after Loki's own heart if ever there had been one–and as Iron Man, contributed some impressive fire-power as well. Hawkeye, a human with superhuman gifts of accuracy, was an impressive sniper and archer. The Hulk provided even more muscle than his brother did. Nick Fury led the group, lending his impressive intellect and cold cunning to the team. Black Widow specialized in stealth and infiltration. There were more of them and Loki read on, seeing how their strengths would work together, planning for the weaknesses he could exploit. When they came for him, Loki would be ready.

But all that could wait. When six o'clock came Loki shut down the computer, his mind full with possibilities and the Oroborous chain heavy in his pocket, and waited for Taryn to return to him. He burned to continue that discussion they'd barely started in the kitchen. He very badly wanted to hear more from her on the subject.

But Taryn didn't come home. Loki paced as time went by without any sign of her and his calls to her cell phone went unanswered. And by seven, far later than the ten-minute drive could possibly have taken her, Loki was no longer able to deny that not only had the enchantments on Thor's necklace been activated by the touch of his magic, it wasn't _him_ Thor had come for.

Had Loki really thought himself enraged when he'd detected the spells in that little hammer and understood Thor's plan? That was nothing compared to now. Loki summoned his armor and weapons again, donned them with a thought, and opened himself to the chaos trapped between dimensions. "Show me," he commanded the swirling forces, a power that should have driven him mad but which he now bent to his will. "Show me where she is."

Even with all his power, it still took an agonizingly long time before the answer arrived in his mind. He closed his eyes and saw it–Taryn in a brightly lit, white-walled room bare of shadows or mirrors, because Thor of course knew how Loki could use those to his advantage. She pounded on the locked door, demanding to be released, voice hoarse from shouting.

Shadows and mirrors be damned. He no longer needed such toys. Loki stepped through the sliver between reality and dreams and appeared behind her. "They will pay for this," he growled, and she spun around with a cry.

"Loki!" Taryn threw herself into his arms and he held her tight, feeling her shaking in his embrace, wanting blood for each tremor. "Oh, God, I don't know how you got in here but you shouldn't have come," she whispered urgently, her voice sharp with terror that was for him, not for herself. "It was Thor, I think he wants to take you back to Asgard. It's a trap–you have to get out of here now!"

Loki knew his own eyes smoldered with rage. "Thor cannot hold me here, and I will not leave you behind," he told her, and to prove his point, he blew the reinforced door off its hinges with a flick of his hand. Taryn gasped and finally released him to gape at the destruction he'd so easily caused. Alarms blared and Loki threw a wave of power at the guards that rushed the opening, holding them back with barely an effort. "Even Asgard has no chains that can bind me now."

Then his gaze found the bruises on her–one blossoming around her eye beneath a painfully-split eyebrow, the other at the center of her forehead, and the walls literally shook with the force of his fury. "_Who. Struck. You?"_ Loki demanded, catching her chin in his hand. He would kill them all for daring to touch her–the lights flickered and buzzed as they rattled in their sockets. No, he would do worse than kill them, he would keep them alive while he tortured them.

Taryn shocked him then by actually smiling–_smiling_ in the face of his rage! "No one," she said, and before he could accuse her of lying, she covered his lips with her fingertips. The room ceased its tremors as her touch calmed his rage. "Really, no one. I head-butted Thor when I was trying to get away from him," she explained.

Now it was his turn to be speechless. "You _head-butted_ Thor," Loki repeated, wondering if the klaxon that still blared with ear-splitting volume had somehow scrambled her words. Saying it again didn't help it make any more sense. "You head-butted _Thor_?"

She nodded. "Twice," she said, touching both bruises and wincing. "There must be a trick to it that I don't know because I'm not sure he even noticed."

Loki felt his force field crumple under a crippling blow and gently put Taryn behind him, shielding her with his body. He recognized that energy easily–he'd felt Mjollnir's might enough times to be sure. "He will notice what I do to him," Loki promised her, and pulled knives from the ether to fill both hands as Thor strode into the room.

"Brother," Thor said cautiously, Mjollnir in hand but not raised. "I am glad to see you at last."

"I am no brother to you," Loki snarled. "You have declared war by what you have done today."

Thor shook his head. "War is what I hoped to prevent by finding you," he countered, circling carefully, studying Loki's every move as he'd always done when they'd sparred, trying to find an opening, a weakness. "What we all want to avoid. Calm your anger, brother–Taryn was treated with respect."

Loki shifted, keeping her behind him–and if Thor was looking for a weakness, he needed look no farther than that telling move. "The kind of respect that locks an innocent woman in a basement?" Loki mocked, his tone sharp enough to cut, and only the feel of her hand on his back stopped him for attacking then and there.

"Taryn, tell him," Thor repeated, more urgently this time, and if Loki didn't know better, he'd have sworn Thor really was desperate to stop the fight that threatened. "I begged you to come with me so I could protect you, just as I told you and your friend. If Loki had–"

"That was _me,_ you stupid ass," Loki growled, and took a perverse satisfaction in Thor's surprise.

"Yeah, then you _kidnapped_ me when I said no," Taryn said angrily from her position at his back, then added, "and your head is like a freaking rock, but other than that, sure, you were a perfect gentleman." Her tone dripped sarcasm.

"I had to speak with you, brother," Thor told Loki, finally giving up on any hope of getting Taryn on his side. He held out his hands but as one of them still held his hammer, it wasn't quite the conciliatory gesture he'd probably intended. "I searched everywhere for you before coming to Taryn. It was a last resort, Loki. I never wanted to use her like this, but it seemed the only way to find you."

Loki spread his own hands, and unlike Thor, he displayed his weapons as an open threat. "And now you have," he said, matching Thor's slow steps, keeping himself between Thor and Taryn. "I warn you, I won't easily be dragged back to Asgard."

Thor shrugged as though that didn't matter. "Asgard can wait," he said, dismissing the prospect of the Allfather's judgment far more easily than Loki could. "That's not what I want from you, Loki."

"And what do you want, mighty Thor the kidnapper?" Loki snapped, tiring of this game. He ached to fight, to beat that damned caring and concern off Thor's face, but mostly he wanted to take Taryn and hide her somewhere Thor could never find her, never take her from him again. It was too dangerous to attack Thor now, in this small space, with her so close. The forces that exploded when they clashed would tear this place apart and her along with it.

"I want my brother back," Thor said quietly, and that was the final straw Loki's strained temper could take.

He murmured a word and heard Taryn gasp as she was suddenly swaddled in magically warmed furs, wondered if she'd realize what was coming. He didn't take the time to explain. "Step away from me, Taryn," he growled, and when he felt her do so, he released the spell that kept his Jötunn form hidden.

Frost crawled up the walls and Thor's breath fogged the suddenly arctic air. "Is this the brother you were so desperate to find?" Loki demanded, glaring through blood red eyes as he advanced on Thor. The blond god's face was white with shock and Loki suddenly knew that Odin had not shared this truth with him. "Is this the brother you want? _Look at me!"_ he screamed when Thor's gaze started to move away, to look past him to Taryn as if seeking her reaction. He flung a knife and Thor struck it with Mjollnir, the enchantment Loki had laid upon it shattering with an explosion like a bomb. He drew another from the void. "I am your enemy, not your brother!"

Thor shuddered with the cold but didn't back away, and now he held Loki's gaze as the room chilled to a point beyond piercing. "You will never be my enemy, Loki," he said firmly, and damn him, his voice rang with sincerity. "Brother, I loved you whatever form you took, whatever you did, always. I will never hate you. Whatever is on the outside, I know your heart."

Loki snarled at Thor's stubborn honor, hating him for it, hating himself for wanting to accept what was offered. "If you knew my heart you never would've brought her into this," he hissed.

Thor held his gaze for a long time in silence, even as ice formed on his hair and beard and the temperature dropped still further. Then, finally, he went to one knee and placed Mjollnir before him. "You are right. I should not have done so," he said, and the shock that ripped through Loki at actually hearing Thor apologize for anything was perhaps the only thing that could have found a crack in his rage and made him listen. "I would react the same way had you done such to Jane. Forgive me, Loki," he said, and bowed his head, delivering himself defenseless, leaving himself open to whatever attack Loki cared to make.

And in that moment, all he could think of was to strike, to drive a blade through that exposed neck and rid himself of Thor once and for all, to never be second again.

A gentle grip on his arm held him back. Loki started to shake it away before realizing that it was Taryn's–she'd wrapped the furs around her hand to protect her from his chill, and despite the magical warmth he'd charmed them with, she still shuddered with cold. "Don't," she whispered, even her voice shivering. "Don't, Loki. You'll regret it."

Loki controlled himself with an effort and fought down his Jötunn side for her. The air warmed slowly around them. "He laid hands on you," he said, voice still tight with rage, unwilling to let it go so easily. "He took you from me and locked you here. I could kill him for that alone."

She nodded, acknowledging that, but she didn't release his arm. "Yeah, he did, so beat the hell out of him for it but don't kill him," she said, and when she held him with that chocolate gaze, he couldn't refuse her. "You have always loved your brother, Loki. No matter what, I know that hasn't changed."

He fought a moment longer, caught by her eyes, before swearing viciously and flinging his knives aside. They struck the walls and began to eat their way through as the spells he'd placed on them were activated. "Get up," he told Thor shortly, and turned away from the happiness in Thor's blue eyes when he did so.

Thor embraced him before Loki could escape. He struggled briefly, but the only way to break Thor's hold was to slide between dimensions, and he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to show that trick so casually yet. That was the only reason he endured the hug. "Let me go," he said coldly, his voice only slightly muffled by Thor's thick shoulder.

"I never will," Thor declared, but he did release him.

Taryn put her arms around him from behind and Loki covered her hand with his, glaring at Thor as if daring him to say a single word to her. He hadn't yet forgiven Thor for taking her. "I will not return to Asgard with you," Loki told him, still on his guard. Yes, he was the Trickster between them, but he no longer put it past Thor to stage this as an elaborate trick to drag him back before the Allfather to face his justice. Thor truly had changed in his time on Earth and was now someone Loki couldn't predict.

Thor waved a hand, dismissing that. "I will not ask you to do so until you are ready," he said, surprising Loki yet again. He saw it and smiled. "Loki, our father also wishes for peace with you, but he is wise enough to know it will only come when you are ready to accept his forgiveness."

Loki felt Taryn stiffen with outrage and loved her all the more for it. "He is not my father, and a thousand years of lies are not so easy to forgive," he said harshly. "Perhaps when he is ready to ask _my_ forgiveness, I will consider accepting his."

Thor nodded at that. Then he transferred his attention to the still-shielded Taryn. "While I am making apologies, I owe you one as well, Taryn," he said with genuine feeling. "Forgive me for bringing you here. I didn't realize that your relationship to my brother had changed. I would never have touched you had I known."

She finally moved out from behind Loki and he let her, although he didn't relax his readiness to fight on her behalf. He _couldn't_ relax. This was still enemy territory as far as he was concerned, and despite Thor's apparent sincerity, all he wanted right now was to get her out of here. "I'm sorry I head-butted you," Taryn replied in a tone that was far too sweet, and then she delighted Loki by adding, "I had actually intended to punch you, but I couldn't get my hands free."

Thor laughed. "Your lady is truly a treasure, brother," he said, teasing gently, and Loki glared to hide how much he wanted to smile, too. He wasn't ready to share humor with Thor again. Not yet. "I will not detain you longer. Just please, promise to contact me again." Then he smiled. "I wish for you to stand at my side before Odin when I wed Jane."

Loki raised a sardonic eyebrow. "You would allow me so close to your Jane, after what you've done tonight?"

"Yes, I would," Thor said without hesitation. "Because you are my brother, Loki, and I will not wed Jane without you standing beside me."

"This is all very touching, but she's still under arrest and this cell is trashed. Are you going to chat all night or can I lock her back up now?"

Thor and Loki both turned and saw Nick Fury lounging at ease in the destroyed doorway. Loki gently put Taryn behind him again, and Thor's subtle shift into battle readiness did more to heal the rift between them than any words could have. "Taryn is not involved in this," Thor said, speaking before Loki could do so, "and she has his protection as well as my own. Believe me, Colonel, you do not want to threaten her so."

Fury didn't look impressed. "She aided and abetted a fugitive."

"An Æsir fugitive, not an Earthly one," Thor corrected him. "He's out of your jurisdiction. His fate lies with the Allfather, not you."

"He unleased that Destroyer in New Mexico and blew up half a town. You can't tell me that's not in my jurisdiction, Thor." Fury straightened and glared at all of them. "Now stand aside. She's my prisoner now."

"Please try not to kill him, brother," Thor murmured to Loki, and in that instant, realizing that Thor was again on his side, ready to battle beside him, a great deal of Loki's anger at him died.

"I promise nothing," Loki growled, drawing another pair of knives with a gesture of his hands.

Fury's single eye narrowed on Loki at the display of power. "You're a master of magic, or so I'm told," he said quietly. "Able to control anyone with your mind, isn't that right? So you'll excuse me if I can't quite buy that an upstanding, respected college professor would suddenly risk prison to shelter you without a little persuasion. She won't be harmed. We're just going to take her to someone who can undo anything you might have done to her mind."

Loki's rage, still simmering, flared back to life at the accusation. "Yes, I am indeed a sorcerer," he said, his voice holding nothing but amusement and cheer, "able to control others with a word. Would you like to see how it works? Punch yourself in the eye." Fury did so, his jaw dropping in disbelief as his fist connected hard. "No, not that one, the other one." This time his fist slammed into the eyepatch, doubling him over with the pain of the blow to his ruined eye, and Loki laughed. "Very nice, that's better. Shall I have you pull your knife next?"

"Loki," Taryn breathed, gripping his waist hard, and he stopped, not wanting to horrify her.

"On your knees," he said, and Fury dropped down before him. "This woman you so foolishly threatened has just saved your life. Be glad she's not as bloodthirsty as I am," Loki growled, releasing Fury from his control. "I have done nothing to her mind, so there is no need to take her anywhere. Better for you that you don't try it, wouldn't you agree?"

Thor was staring at him now, shock on his face. "You were never able to do such things before," he said, and while his tone held no accusation, Loki still felt it.

"I can do many things now I couldn't do before," he said, and it was a warning. The look on Thor's face showed clearly that he took it as one. "Just remember that before you think a room without mirrors or shadows can keep me away. I am going to take Taryn home now, Thor. I advise you not to follow."

"Will I see you again, brother?" Thor asked, stepping toward him, hand outstretched.

Loki wanted to say no. He truly did. The memory of Thor's attack on the Bifrost Bridge, his lack of understanding, the destruction of Loki's careful plans, still burned him. But Taryn looked up at him with such hope in her eyes that he couldn't make himself disappoint her. "I will see you again," he finally told Thor, and then added, grudgingly, "Brother." And with Thor's joyous smile blinding him at that title, Loki turned, caught Taryn in his arms, and took her through the cracks between dimensions back to her home.


	7. Neverending

Taryn swayed on her feet when they emerged in her living room. Loki guided her down onto the couch and knelt beside her, worried by her sudden pallor. "Taryn?" he murmured, brushing the hair away from the bruises on her forehead and healing them with soft kisses. "Are you all right?"

She pulled him into her arms and he held her tight, feeling her shake and shudder against him as delayed reaction hit her hard now that the danger was past. "I was so scared," she whispered, fingers digging into his armor. "Thor said you couldn't come into that room, you'd have to talk to him first, and I thought…"

"I will always come for you," he swore, holding her harder, kissing her hair. "Nothing can keep me away from you. They will never touch you again, I promise you that."

She nodded and buried her face in the curve of his shoulder, her breath hot on his skin. Loki banished his armor and joined her on the couch, pulling her onto his lap and holding her tight in an attempt to comfort her. "You were very brave," he murmured, stroking her back, attempting to stop the tremors still racking her body. "There are few who would fight Thor."

She laughed shakily. "I think I defeated myself with the headache I got from it."

"But it was still brave." Loki felt her finally begin to calm, her body losing some of its tension in his arms. "I have a gift for you," he whispered after a few minutes. This wasn't how he'd wanted to do this, but after tonight, he needed her to have this necklace _now._ The thought of her so unprotected made him feel physically ill.

Taryn lifted her head and looked at him with serious eyes. "You don't have to give me anything, Loki," she murmured. "Just having you here with me is enough."

Loki kissed her because that slew him–he was a god and she knew it, had seen his power unleashed tonight, and still she never asked him for any of the myriad things he could give her. It only made him want to give to her even more. When he pulled away, he waved his hand and called the chain to him. "I do need to give you this," he said, gazing hungrily at her face as she looked at his gift.

"Oh…" Taryn touched the necklace with a fingertip, awe clear in her eyes. "It's beautiful, Loki," she whispered, tracing down to the snake's perfectly detailed head. She met his gaze and smiled. "Far more impressive than a dinky litle hammer," she said, and he grinned because she'd understood him so perfectly.

"It's more than a pretty trinket," Loki said, his smile fading. Taryn bit her lip at his sudden seriousness and he had to fight the urge to bite that same lip himself.

"It looks like magic," she whispered.

"It is." Loki flattened his hand, let the chain slither into a coil on his palm of its own accord. "While you wear this I will always be able to find you. If you speak my name, I will hear you, no matter where you might be. It will never leave you unless you bid it–no one could ever take it from you. And…" He took a deep breath, held her gaze. "And your life will be extended, Taryn. You will never die while you wear this. It will heal any wound, bind your life to mine. This will grant you immortality."

Her mouth dropped open, eyes wide with shock. "You can do that?"

He nodded. "Not easily, but yes, I can. I have," he said, holding her gaze steadily, "for you."

Taryn stared at him, and this was the first time she'd ever looked at Loki like the god he was. Finally she tore her gaze away and touched the chain in his hand. "It's amazing, Loki. I don't know what to say," she whispered as the little snake reacted to her touch, following her fingertip as if craving her touch as much as Loki himself did.

"Then say yes," Loki murmured. His arm around her tightened and he nuzzled her ear. "Say yes and accept this from me. Take this gift, please."

She leaned into him and covered his hand with hers, the chain trapped between their palms. "Why?" she whispered. "Why immortality?"

He pulled back and stared down into her eyes. "Do you really not know, my lady?" He raised their linked hands, kissed her knuckles, watched her blush, saw the caution in her gaze as if she dared not believe what he was offering could be real. "Your mortality terrifies me, Taryn," he murmured against her skin. "It terrified me tonight. I want to protect you, keep you safe." He turned their hands, then withdrew his, leaving the chain coiled in her palm. "Let me," he breathed.

Slowly, her fingers closed over it. Loki smiled in triumph, and when she finally returned it, he brushed his lips over hers. "There is one catch," he murmured.

"I knew enough mythology to expect that," Taryn said, and while she sounded cautious, he loved that there was no suspicion in her voice. No expectation of a trick from him despite his well-earned reputation. "What's the catch?"

Loki cupped her cheek in his palm, caressed her skin with his thumb. "While you wear this, you are _my_ lady," he whispered fiercely, all his wanting naked in his words. "This doesn't end."

For a moment, she just stared at him, and his breath froze in his chest. Then she smiled and the sun came out. "Oh, Loki," Taryn sighed, looking up at him with such affection, such acceptance, that his chest tightened to the point of pain. "Don't you know you don't have to offer me anything for that? Haven't you figured out yet that I love you?"

He hardly dared to move, but the words escaped him anyway. "Even though I'm a Jötunn?"

Taryn kissed him softly. "I love you because you're Loki," she whispered against his lips. "No matter what else you are, you're my Loki."

Loki's heart kicked so hard it was physically painful, but it was the sweetest pain he'd ever felt. "My lady," he breathed, pressing his forehead to hers, unable to find any words to tell her all that was in his heart. No one else could rob him of speech as she did. "My love."

"Always," Taryn said, and she lifted her chin as he took the chain from her hand and raised it to her throat. She laughed as it slithered around her neck on its own. "It tickles," she giggled, squirming a little as it settled gently onto her skin and gripped its tail in its teeth. A green flash sealed it unbreakably. She touched it and smiled at him. "How does it look?"

Loki blew out a shuddering breath at the sight of his symbol on her. "It looks like everything I've ever wanted," he said, and then he kissed her, and there were no more words for a long time thereafter.


	8. A Quick Note

**Since I get so many people asking in reviews and PMs if I'll do a sequel, I wanted to post a little note to tell you the answer is YES! The sequel is called **_**Mirrors and Shadows**_** and as of now it's at 25 chapters, so nice and long and still not done. Go check it out, and thanks to everyone for all your very kind reviews! Much love to all of you!**


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